Planar Chaos
by NoisyKrickett
Summary: The Gatewatch took oaths to uphold justice in the Multiverse. The Chaos Crew has no noble intentions. They roam the Multiverse in their neverending quests, some of which are at odds with each other. Follow the adventures of a far less cohesive group of planeswalkers who are often the cause of their own problems. With great power comes great irresponsibility. Rated M for cannibals.
1. Chapter 1

Planar Chaos

Chapter 1: Tea With the Voidcaller

Marthel had to hand it to Ashleigh. Her title was fitting. The Voidcaller's home, made in an abandoned cathedral on an island claimed by Innistrad's coastal province of Nephalia, exuded emptiness like the oppressive perfume worn by many of this plane's vampire socialites to cover up the stench of blood. Marthel pulled his boat ashore, an easy task for the Malestrom Mage, vagabond of the multiverse that he was. However, he hadn't come across any mortals so frightened of his acquaintances as the humans of Innistrad feared Ashleigh the Voidcaller.

The welcoming party of devils might have had something to do with that. He easily dissipated the minor nuisances and pulled his cloak tighter around him. Everything about this place should have filled him with hatred and divine fury. It certainly would have before his spark ignited, taking him away from the only home he had known and opening up his mind to the infinite possibilities of the multiverse. Waking up in a Temur camp on Tarkir during their last stand against the Dragonlords had been something of a shock after growing up in the part of Alara formerly known as Bant. The Temur had used magic in a way he was entirely unfamiliar with. Their primal surges of unchecked power intrigued Marthel, teaching him the importance of passion as a source of power.

The Voidcaller knew such passion, but only when her more civilized methods had been repeatedly frustrated. The grounds of the crumbling cathedral, darker than usual under the new moon, were charmed and trapped to keep away those she had not invited. Marthel knew of only one other Planeswalker foolish enough to come here, and even he never came without an invitation from the mistress of the manor. Where symbols of Avacyn, the angel of hope and goddess of Innistrad, once hung Ashleigh had put up tapestries bearing her own standard. Marthel smirked. In the deep purple field hung a spiral of silver stars with a gap the perfect size for a new moon. Some of the Voidcaller's passion eked out in her flair for the dramatic. She had set herself up as a queen of the damned, no doubt modeled after a certain famous necromancer.

Marthel let out a sigh. An associate of that famous necromancer made his life difficult. Sharing a given name with one of the most famous walkers in the multiverse, one repeatedly sought after by Nicol Bolas himself, came with its fair share of problems. Using his surname had made the confusion less common, but he still felt the effects of his unfortunate coincidence.

He could see the silhouette of Ashleigh sitting on the sill of a stained glass window staring up at the new moon. No silver heron would shine down on Innistrad this night, keeping the werewolves in their beds. Rumors floated through the minds of the townsfolk Marthel had encountered of the Cursemute failing. He'd also noticed strange stone formations jutting out of the earth and channeling the plane's mana in unnatural paths. That was a mystery for another day, though. Today he had a single purpose.

Today he was going to have tea with the Voidcaller.

From her perch on the windowsill, Ashleigh looked down at the courtyard of her cathedral. Her welcoming party of devils were unsummoned by the mage who was intruding on her solitude. She hadn't sent any invitations as of late either. The denizens of this plane knew what happened to trespassers. A brief flash of burning anger at the intruder caused her to rip red mana out of her cathedral home's necropolis and rain a barrage of fire from the sky into the courtyard below. Flames surrounded the mage who dared mar her empty home with his presence uninvited, but they did not touch him. She saw a shimmering aura crack and fall away. Its magic was not of this plane.

She only knew of one white walker both bold enough to come to her uninvited and familiar enough with her schedule to know that it would soon be tea time. Ashleigh supposed company would be amenable to her schedule. She wandered across her room with practiced elegance and opened her wardrobe to find something suitable for company. She'd plucked many a fine garment from the corpses of vampires who had been sent to run her out of Nephalia. Her presence was "bad for trade" or some other such tripe. They should have been thanking her for keeping Avacyn and her acolytes away. There had also been that incident with the demon some time ago, but to her credit Ashleigh had been barely involved in the aftermath.

She selected a wine colored velvet dress and paired it with gold and ruby adornments, catching her hair up in a set of matching combs. After ensuring that there wasn't a hair out of place, Ashleigh descended the stairs of the cathedral's belfry and made her way to the sanctuary. Tea had been set up on the former altar by her cadre of demonic and undead servants, however something was off about the scene.

Sitting in her favorite wingback leather chair was Marthel, the Malestrom Mage.

After a moment of being flustered, Ashleigh sat down in the chair opposite Marthel with her trademark studied grace. She poured their tea and took a sip before turning her eyes to Marthel over her cup.

"What brings you to Innistrad, Malestrom Mage?"

Marthel was surprised at the ease with which Ashleigh covered up her annoyance with niceties. However, he recalled that ceremony was everything with the self-styled noble. He dutifully answered her question. "I was in the neighborhood and thought to pay you a visit, for old time's sake."

"I suppose anywhere in the multiverse is 'in the neighborhood' for you."

"I suppose you could say so." Marthel took another sip of tea. He didn't much care for the blends on Innistrad and did his best to hide the distaste from his hostess.

"That said, you have gotten around quite a bit." Marthel suddenly felt delicate mental fingers combing through his mind. They settled on one spell he had learned while visiting Zendikar and Ashleigh's eyes lit up. "Oh, Marthel do you mind if I borrow this?"

"Borrowing implies that you intend to return it, Ashleigh."

"You'll get it back. Eventually."

"Why don't you visit more planes so you don't have to pick our minds for spells? You could learn them yourself."

"I prefer life here."

"You find beauty in the empty. Let me show you the infinite." Marthel reached across the altar-table and took Ashleigh's free hand. Her hands were always cold like the grasp of death she so freely manipulated.

She arched one eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"I'm having a get together, a soiree of sorts, with some of the walkers I have met on my travels. I would like for you to come."

"You lost me at soiree."

"What if I told you a certain friend of ours would be there? A certain walker who knows the Malestrom just as well as I do?" Marthel smirked as Ashleigh's cheeks flushed a gentle shade of red.

"I'm not sure what you mean. Our paths only crossed a few times," she stammered.

"More than a few, from what I hear."

"Whatever he has been telling you, Marthel, I can assure you it is entirely false."

"Really?" It was Ashleigh's turn to feel delicate fingers picking through her memories.

"Those are private!" A series of small horrors appeared around Ashleigh and lobbed tiny balls of lightning at Marthel. This time they hit their mark.

"Ow!" His concentration broken, Marthel backed down. "Fine, fine. Just consider it, okay?"

"I will consider your offer and notify you if I decide to accept. Good day, Marthel." She put her finished tea down and walked back towards the stairs. Her footsteps rang out in the spacious stone cathedral. The horrors, which Ashleigh had nicknamed Gambits, began to usher Marthel towards the door.

"Wait, I have one more question," he called out.

"I'm listening," she replied, stopping in her tracks. The Voidcaller didn't turn around to face him. Her gambits, however, stopped their herding of the unwelcome guest.

"How did it happen? You promised you'd tell me one day."

Ashleigh's shoulders slumped. "It was a moment of weakness. Our ceremony was failing, so I attempted to force the demons to appear. I ended up in Shadowmoor, but I missed home too much. However, my home is changing, Marthel. Should you attempt to request help from above you might find yourself run through by a blade of moonsilver."

"What do you mean?" Angels had always responded well to his summons.

"The Blade of Goldnight and Light of Alabaster, as well as the angels in their flights, have begun to destroy those they were once commanded to protect, led by none other than Avacyn herself."

"What about Sigarda?" Marthel was puzzled as to why Ashleigh only mentioned two of the angel sisters.

"She has yet to be consumed by their madness. However, I doubt she can stand against them for long without Sorin interceding on her behalf."

"Maybe you should come with me, Ashleigh."

"Do not think I cannot take care of myself, Marthel." Ashleigh rounded on him. Lightning crackled around her fingers. Marthel found himself taking an involuntary step back from the female planeswalker. He attempted to shield himself from her display of power, but as soon as he had the spell in his mind it vanished.

"No," Ashleigh said coldly. "You will feel the full might of my power, Marthel."

An arc of red lightning shot from Ashleigh's right hand, striking Marthel full in the chest. He staggered back, trying to catch his breath.

"Okay, Ash, I believe you. That said, we might want to be getting a move on."

"Why would that be?"

"The angels are coming."

He was right. Silhouettes of hundreds of angels were converging on the converted cathedral.

"That's more than I can take," Marthel said gravely.

"As much as I don't like to admit it, more than I can take as well."

Marthel offered his arm. "Shall we?"

"Yes, I believe I shall take you up on this offer of the infinite."


	2. Chapter 2

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Izzet Convention

Every so often, the Izzet guild of Ravnica hosts a convention of sorts for its mages to showcase their new projects. It is presided over by their guild leader himself, the great and illustrious Niv Mizzet. The sight of the last true dragon alive on Ravnica struck some with fear, others with awe, and still others with contempt.

Odom felt none of these things. He was visiting Ravnica for a singular purpose, and it certainly wasn't basking in the glory of a giant red lizard with wings. He did enough of that when he was actually working for the Izzet. He noted that the guild had yet again redesigned his signet. The dragon's neck had a more graceful arch to it and the spines of its membranous mane were pointier. He chuckled to himself. Niv Mizzet was a decent guild leader and incredibly brilliant, but his vanity tended to overshadow his accomplishments.

Odom found the lecture hall he was looking for and conjured a few illusory copies of himself to jump ahead in the line that had formed. Duplication was his specialty, and an Izzet mage had come up with an idea for duplicating spells. She called it "Replication". As creative as the Izzet mages were, Odom thought their naming conventions left something to be desired.

As he stepped into the space occupied by his duplicate closest to the front of the line, he heard a female voice behind him say "I saw that."

The woman behind him was dressed in the garb of a Duskmantle mage with the exception of three medallions, one sapphire, one jet, and one ruby, peeking out from under her cloak. In a rucksack she carried close to her body he could see the top of some sort of stylized owl made from metal. It might have been a lantern.

"I won't tell." She smiled sweetly. It was a dangerous sort of sweet, though, like poisoned food. She extended one pale hand adorned with rings that would have made Teysa herself look poor. "My name is Ashleigh. Pleased to make your acquaintance Mr..."

"Odom." He took Ashleigh's hand, shocked by just how cold it was.

"Interesting name, Mr. Odom."

"I'm an interesting guy." Odom smirked. It wasn't untrue. This woman probably had no idea that he could visit other worlds on a whim. She had no knowledge of the Maelstrom that once tore through Alara. She didn't even know Alara existed.

"You certainly seem that way. How many would use complex illusion spells to skip in line for a seminar on a technique that's been in development and is only now ready for the public? I'd rather use it to get into the theoretical discussion later on the possibility of multitargeting spells capable of targeting each enemy."

"I think they're starting to call it 'overload'," Odom mused. "I think I could get us front row seats to that one."

"If you couldn't, I certainly could."

"How would you manage that?"

"Oh... just a little pyrotechnics." Odom noticed sparks of red lightning flickering around Ashleigh's hands. What was a Dimir mage doing with a spell like that? Or what was an Izzet electromancer doing dressed in Duskmantle robes? He hadn't seen her around the Izzet laboratory complex before, so she might have been Dimir.

"That might draw a little too much attention, don't you think?"

"You do have a point, but in the aftermath this place would be so delightfully empty. Except for the corpses, of course."

"I don't see the appeal of death. The undead take too much work to maintain."

"You have a point. I typically deal in horrors, myself. The occasional demon."

"You're a confusing person," Odom said as they took their seats in the lecture hall.

"That was amazing," Ashleigh said as they exited the symposium on replication. "Just by adding that extra algorithm to the spell's construction, it can be readied, cast, but then it doesn't have to be readied again as long as you have the mana to pump into it."

"I know. It's brilliant. The design is so elegant compared to simply casting a second spell to target the first." Odom had to admit he was enjoying this mage's company. He rarely made friends in his travels across the planes. Nobody could quite understand a planeswalker, unless that person was also a planeswalker. Ashleigh reminded him of one such person, a walker named Sverre who resided on a cold and barren plane called Helheim. The things Sverre had done with the place made it at least acceptable for Odom, however it lacked a certain fire.

"Are our duplicates holding our place for the other seminar?"

"Of course. I wouldn't let us miss it for all the gold in the Orzhov treasury."

"From what I hear, that's a lot of gold."

"I don't need it."

"Neither do I."

They took their places at the front of the line and were admitted shortly thereafter. The first three rows of seats were marked off with bright red velvet ropes and signs that read "Caution: Splash Zone".

"What's all this?" Odom asked.

"I don't know, but it looks fun." Ashleigh pulled him along to the middle of the first available row, her grasp still cold like death. Odom hadn't seen any fangs, but he was beginning to entertain the idea that Ashleigh was a vampire, albeit one who came out in the sun. He'd seen stranger things in his travels. A giant elemental was his personal mount and he'd seen firsthand the maddening trails left by the eldrazi of Kozilek's lineage as they devastated Zendikar.

Three scarecrows that were supposed to look like goblins were scattered in the front rows that had been cordoned off. A pair of goblin mages stood on the stage preparing some sort of device that had far more cogs and hydraulic elements than were necessary.

Ladies and gentlemen," one cried out in its shrill voice. "We are honored to present the next step in spell enhancement. Behold, project overload!"

A series of mizzium mortars began raining from the ceiling. They did not stop after obliterating the first three rows, but instead moved to fill the entire lecture hall with screams of agony. Odom was, to say the least, unnerved by the look of sheer delight on Ashleigh's face as the other onlookers were struck down in blazes of fiery death. Izzet accidents were commonplace, but that didn't make them any less dangerous. He struggled through the crowd, unaware of whether or not his new friend was following him.

The glaring light of the sun briefly disoriented him. Ashleigh had ghosted up behind him as the lecture hall began to crumble. She laid a cold hand on the back of his neck.

"Don't look now, but the Azorius are here," she whispered.

"You there," one of the justicars pointed at the pair. "Halt. You are being detained for questioning."

"Like Helheim I am," Odom said. He reached far down into the ground with his magic and found the root of an ancient tree. It wasn't much, but it was enough. He summoned a large ooze from the ground. It was quickly joined by a group of animated fresh corpses.

"I have a plan," Ashleigh said. She pulled a lantern with five different colored panes of glass from out of her bag. Odom felt cold fingers rifling through his mind for a spell, any spell that could hold off the justicars long enough to make an escape. She didn't find what she was looking for, but stumbled across enough to confirm her suspicions.

"Okay. Plan B." A wave of fire began rolling towards the justicars that were locked in battle with Odom's ooze and Ashleigh's zombies.

She was a planeswalker. There was no way around it.

"On three, we're going to get out of here. Just follow me," Ashleigh commanded. "Three!"

For the first time since his spark ignited during a failed Izzet experiment and dumped him in the Maelstrom, Odom felt himself being forcibly ripped through the blind eternities. He came to on a cold stone floor in a crumbling cathedral under the light of Innistrad's full moon. The heron looked down at him with accusatory eyes. He didn't belong here. The mana felt wrong. It was empty and lifeless. He felt like he was back on Grixis.

"Where am I?" he asked, sitting up to see Ashleigh nursing a severe burn on her right forearm.

"Home. This is Innistrad, more specifically, an abandoned cathedral off the coast of Nephalia."

That was why he felt so off. There wasn't a forest for miles, only tidal swamps that gave him the creeps. His skin began to crawl as he felt rather than saw several pairs of eyes watching him.

"They won't hurt you," Ashleigh said as the small devils crept out from the shadows. "Not unless I tell them to."

"You're a," Odom began.

"Yes, and so are you. Tea is in one hour. I suggest you be dressed for the occasion. There is a wardrobe in the corner with clothes that might be more suitable than your guildmage's robes."


	3. Chapter 3

Planar Chaos

Chapter Two: The Grave Birther

The lord of the plane of Helheim lounged upon the coils of his dearest pet, Jormungandr. The immense zombie wurm lay wrapped around the roots of a corrupted Yggdrasil, the world tree of Helheim. It had once been a thriving, beautiful plane full of life and heroes, but those days were long gone. The bodies and souls of those unlucky enough to be claimed by the angels of this plane, called Valkyries by the former populace, in a final battle were now Sverre's to manipulate.

Sverre sighed. This was a fraction of the power he had once possessed. The mending had ignited his spark, but he'd had the smallest taste of the power a planeswalker could have. The closest approximation to such power was taking over a plane in a corner of the multiverse away from the likes of Beleren, Vess, and Bolas. He could reign supreme as a god of life and death, creating, destroying, and remaking Helheim in his own image. Long ago, when he was simply a mage living in Dominaria, he would have recoiled from the manipulation of the dead. He had been battling a necromancer when a surge of power whisked him away to worlds unknown. He didn't know what happened to that necromancer, and had little desire to now.

A voice called out, pulling Sverre from his musings on the past.

"O Grave Birther, lord of Helheim, I have traveled far to beg audience with you."

The voice wasn't slurred like the speech of the dead. It was clear, crisp, and could belong to only one being in the multiverse.

"Marthel," Sverre said, sitting up a little straighter on Jormungandr's coils. He tilted his helmet, plucked off of the corpse of a warrior eons ago, so that it did not hang so low on his face. The wings decorating the sides caught in a slight breeze of cold, fetid air. "For what purpose have you come to find me?"

"I would like to invite you to a party I'm having. When was the last time you had a good revel?"

"We need no revelry here," Sverre said.

"I have heard the dead revel louder than the living. I would join you, but I'm not much for the stench," Marthel smirked. There was something in Sverre's eyes that told the Maelstrom Mage he was on to something. "When was the last time you left Helheim? Surely you grow curious about the outside."

"I have messengers who bring me news," Sverre said. "Being the lord of a plane takes time, Marthel."

"If you're referring to Odom and Ashleigh by messengers you should know they've already accepted my invitation." It was a half truth. Finding Odom would be harder than he liked. The Guildpact made planeswalking to Ravnica difficult, but not impossible. Once the Duplicant was located, though, he was always ready for a good celebration. Marthel had accompanied him to a Gruul party once. It reminded him of the Temur, now called Atarka after their dragonlord. The Rakdos revels Ashleigh had partaken in before her self-imposed isolation had been more dangerous, but also more fun.

"I've heard nothing from the Voidcaller for some time. Has she finally left that dark eyrie?"

"We didn't have much of a choice in the matter."

"The darkness I enjoy, but the barrenness of her abode was always a bit unsettling. I prefer the abundance of my gardens." Sverre gestured forth with a hand and a swarm of saprolings sprang from the ground behind Marthel, only to quickly die and rot away into moist loam. From the fresh earth he summoned a hulking zombie and wrapped it with vines. The shimmering form of a green spirit could be seen loosely manipulating the vines and roots. The summoned beings were easily dissipated.

"Impressive. Strangleroot?"

"Something I picked up the last time I was called to Innistrad. I don't know if I'll keep it, though. Probably not."

"I suggest we not go back any time soon. That put a damper on my plans, actually. I'd hoped to use Ashleigh's cathedral as a gathering place. Perhaps we should have the party on Ravnica instead. Everyone can at least be at home there."

"The city of guilds?" Sverre wasn't shocked by Marthel's suggestions, but even he had heard of the difficulties in planeswalking there since the Guildpact was given a new form in Jace Beleren.

"They have an uneasy balance, it's true, and at least five of the guilds have tried to take over the entire plane in the past. I don't believe we'll upset it, though, so long as we all behave."

"Who else are you inviting?"

"Some walkers you haven't met yet. They are friends of mine from some adventures I have between my social calls." Marthel shrugged. "Unlike some of you, I try to maintain my friendships."

Sverre leaned back against Jormungandr's rotting coils and let out a laugh. "You have time for friends, it seems. I am ruler of this entire realm. I have at least regained a sense of the power I could have had. You know nothing of it. You are too young."

"Even so," Marthel said, "I am not alone. You speak of power and glory, yet here you sit, complacent on your throne of rotting flesh in a world that you've successfully shaped to your every whim. Where's the fun in that? There's no test of that power if you don't search for its limits."

Sverre jumped from his perch and landed on his feet in front of Marthel. They were inches apart. He wasn't angry, though. He was sizing up his opponent. Marthel dabbled in magics that Sverre couldn't fathom, but he could counter them.

"I have felt my limits, Marthel," Sverre said. "There is not a day that goes by that I don't understand what I could have had, what I lost in the mending. It gave me this phenomenal power, but it also let me glimpse something more that I would never be able to touch."

"I've often found that my limits are not where I assumed them to be. You can manipulate life and death, invade the minds of your enemies and mutate their bodies into forms only limited by your imagination. So why do you sit here in a dark world on a throne made from rotting flesh? Because it is easy."

"I see your point," Sverre turned and lost himself in thought for a moment. The possibilities on other planes were endless and everywhere he went, the results would be unexpected. That yearning for the unknown he had felt in his youth was beginning to return. "Very well. I shall join you in this revel through the planes."

"Excellent," Marthel said cheerfully. "Now we must find the others."


	4. Chapter 4

Planar Chaos

One Shots: New Phyrexia

This was the absolute worst outcome Odom could think of. When he'd accepted the offer of Jin Gitaxis to study the great work being done on New Phyrexia, formerly the plane of Mirrodin, he didn't think that his time there would end with a forced "compleation".

He was completely immobilized on some sort of operating table, a syringe filled with Phyrexian oil poised above him in the praetor's spindly fingers.

"First," Gitaxis said in his buzzing, clicking voice, "I will see what you have learned from us."

Odom tried not to scream as the Core Auger invaded his mind. This was different from the gentle, probing telepathy he'd come to expect from the likes of Marthel and Ashleigh. It felt as if a red hot spike were being driven through his eyeball. He reflexively manifested another set of arms to strike out at his tormentor, but they barely made it past their ooze stage before dripping through the table and puddling on the floor.

"Interesting. I see possibility," Gitaxis hissed. "You could bring us to other worlds, finish the great work."

The syringe came down directly into Odom's stomach. The oil burned, but that would be all it did. Phyrexian oil couldn't affect planeswalkers in the same way it had corrupted and changed Mirrodin.

That didn't mean that it didn't hurt, though. Odom hadn't felt such pain since his spark ignited. The explosion that threw him across the blind eternities and into the maelstrom of Alara had broken his body, but the maelstrom had replaced what he'd lost. One of his arms was now living bark from wrist to shoulder and part of his face noticeably didn't match the rest of it. One of his eyebrows had also gotten into the habit of combusting when he was angry. At the moment, Odom was definitely angry.

Jin Gitaxis left the room, satisfied that the oil would take effect. Odom was alone, but not for long. A humanoid entered the compleation chamber and glanced over the restrained planeswalker. Odom could see a winged helmet, bored gaze, and the riches of the Sultai hanging around the man's neck.

"If this is Gitaxis's great plan for the future of the Phyrexians, I'd rather not be the one to tell him it won't work." The man removed the syringe from Odom's stomach. "Don't get me wrong, the Core Auger is brilliant, but I'm surprised he couldn't recognize a planeswalker when one was lying in front of him. That arm of yours should have been a dead giveaway." He flicked the wood, satisfied with the tone of the thunk.

Odom said nothing.

"Then again, neither he, Sheoldred, nor Vorinclex were able to figure me out. They don't have too much experience with our kind." The man raised an eyebrow. "I suppose that oil must hurt. I could help you."

"But it's going to cost me?" Odom was faced with a black mage, he could easily tell. They dealt in bargains and pacts, tit for tat. He was involuntarily reminded of the many failed bargains with demons that caused Ashleigh to unexpectedly appear in his quarters on Ravnica until the smoke cleared and she could ply the angered beings with shiny objects from other planes which always seemed to find their way back into her possession.

"Exactly," Sverre said. "Specifically... that." He gestured to the small Simic signet that hung around Odom's neck.

"If you help me escape I can take you to where I got it and you can get your own. They have them in every color combination. There's a green and black one you'd like even better, I'd imagine."

Sverre paused for a moment, burying himself in his thoughts. "Very well. You have a deal."

Sverre waved his hands over the prone walker before him. The oil seeped back into the syringe. Sverre smirked as the other planeswalker's eyebrow slowly returned to normal instead of being a small fire reminiscent of Chandra Nalaar's hair. The restraints fell away and the hodgepodge walker sat up. Sverre was intrigued by his mixture of features. The lord of Helheim had heard of walkers fusing with other beings when their sparks ignited. Perhaps that was what happened with this one. His curiosity on the matter couldn't be denied.

"I suppose you would be polite enough to give me your name?"

"Odom," he said, rubbing at his wrists. The wood one would never feel quite right.

"Odom what, may I ask, were you doing being strapped down on the compleation table of Jin Gitaxis?"

"I didn't think it all the way through, let's leave it at that."

"Red mage," Sverre muttered to himself. The flaming eyebrow should have given it away.

"And who are you?" Odom asked.

"Sverre, the Grave Birther and Lord of Helheim. We'll be leaving now so you can give me what you owe."

"You sound like the Orzhov..." Odom grumbled.

"The who?"

"You'll see. Follow me."

Jin Gitaxis reentered the room to see it emptied. His experiment had escaped and the Phyrexian oil was back in its syringe.


	5. Chapter 5

Planar Chaos

Ignitions: Dancing with Demons

Behind the Sulfur Falls of Innistrad there lies a cave that is the meeting place of the Skirsdag cultists. They stood hand in hand around their rune array draped in identical red cloaks. The shimmering purple runes carved into the living rock pulsed with an eerie facsimile of life as their chanting reverberated off of the cave walls.

As the final chorus of the chant reached its crescendo, the runes flared to life and went dark. The cultists waited in anticipation, but nothing appeared.

"It didn't work," Gerda's shoulders slumped. The slight girl was their most recent convert from the church of Avacyn.

"It was not meant to be," Ferrow sighed. He was their leader, the most experienced with calling demons, and he couldn't tell them why their ceremony had failed even if he had wanted to.

"Why don't we try again?" Ferrow looked over to see Ashleigh, one of the more passionate cultists, looking at him with her fierce eyes. In the light of their fires, they shone out from the shadows of her hood.

"The ceremony didn't work, though," one of the older cultists, a woman named Hagar, said. "Why would it work if we tried it again?"

"Well we won't know until we try," Ashleigh retorted. She had an idea, and others might say it was a bad idea, but she had to see if it would work.

"Fine," Ferrow said. "Join hands. Let us begin again."

They didn't know the language in which they chanted. All they knew was that it would summon those whose audience they sought. Ashleigh felt chills running down her spine as she formed the words, but it was soon replaced with heat in her gut as the runes began to glimmer faintly. Now was the time. Ashleigh had been something of a mage apprenticed to a wizard who specialized in spells that could be cast again without being readied. She hadn't completely abandoned that life yet, and was attempting to continue some of his work with her own ideas. It was this magical training that allowed her to reach deep into the earth to tap into its mana and channel it into a spell that was certain to get the demon's attention. As the portal began to open, a cascade of fire roared from the ceiling down into the pits inhabited by Innistrad's demons and devils.

The portal began to roil and bubble like thick tar. The chant once again reached its crescendo and a hulking black shape rocketed out of the portal in the ground. The cultists let out a collective gasp and stumbled backward.

Ferrow moved slightly forward, kneeling down to begin his supplications.

"Our dark Lord from the deepest reaches of the world which we cannot comprehend," he began.

The demon interrupted him. "Which of you intrudes upon my slumber?"

"We have summoned you here to-"

"Who before me rained down fire into our resting place?" Its horns scraped the cavern's ceiling, its voice boomed and shook the walls. Large, batlike wings shifted and flapped, bowling over several cultists with their powerful gusts. Some were staring wide eyed and open mouthed. Ashleigh was backing away slowly.

The demon saw her. "Was it you? Speak, mortal!"

"I... uh... It wasn't not me..." she stammered.

The demon rushed her. Ashleigh's back hit the cavern wall, her hood falling back. There were minor demons, devils, and imps that she'd made alliances with. None of them could have prepared her for facing an archdemon. She could barely comprehend the amount of power rolling off of the being before her. Deep black eyes that held only madness in them bored into her, demanding an explanation. Ashleigh's heart jumped into her mouth and she felt a jerking sensation in her chest. The cool cavern wall fell away and she was falling, always falling.

She awoke in a quiet, dark wood in a world that felt entirely different from her home. Tiny people with butterfly wings crept out from the autumn leaves.

"What is she?" a pink one asked in its high, squeaky voice from its hiding spot under a leaf.

"I don't know," a green one replied.

"Where did you come from?" a blue one asked, flitting up to stand on Ashleigh's forehead, bending over to look her in the eye.

"I might ask you the same thing," she said as a reply.

"We're fairies, of course," the blue one said indignantly.

"You're trespassing," the pink one said.

"We need to take you to Queen Oona." The green one flew over and tugged on Ashleigh's hair. "Come with us."

"But first," the blue one held up a hand to slow its companions, "who and what are you?"

"My name is Ashleigh, and I'm, well," she didn't feel human anymore, "I'm not really sure what I am."

"She looks like an elf," the pink one said. "We don't like elves."

"I am most certainly not an elf, whatever those are. I'm a girl." Ashleigh sat up, dislodging the blue fairy.

"We still need to take you to Oona. She'll know what to do with you," the green fairy gave Ashleigh's hair another tug.

"Come with us." The blue fairy had righted itself and brought its timid pink companion out of hiding.

Ashleigh got off of the ground and followed the fairies into the woods, tugging her red cloak more tightly around her.


	6. Chapter 6

Planar Chaos

Chapter Three: Herald of War

Marthel was not in the least bit excited at the prospect of tracking down Rinok. Wherever the planeswalker went, war followed swiftly. Rinok also grew bored with the wars he started, or worse his presence began to end them. The time he'd spent on Valla taught him a unique lesson. War was the great equalizer, a revitalizing force to dying planes. It was a philosophy Marthel did not ascribe to. Why spend so much time destroying when he could travel and see and learn?

"Look at this plane, Marthel," Rinok said staring out over Tarkir. The great battlefields were no more, the dragons had won ages ago. There was one less place where he could be truly at home surrounded by those who understood the fine art of war. The Kolaghan were only slightly better than the Rakdos of Ravnica, his former people. He'd been born into the thrill kill cult, but sought more in life than meaningless slaughter. The glory of war and Boros raids would be what opened his eyes to the wider multiverse around him. A raid led by the Boros guild with the support of the Azorius had resulted in his being transported to Valla, the plane that shaped his new life as a planeswalker.

Valla had been constantly at war. When a budding peace removed all meaning from the lives of his brothers and sisters in arms, Rinok had understood that he was the problem. His power ended the war, and he resolved that it would go on to begin countless others.

"What am I looking at, Rinok?" Marthel saw very little that was different about Tarkir from the last time he paid his former home a visit. The Temur, now named Atarka after their dragonlord, had retained their wild ways and ferocious use of nature magic.

"A dying plane. This tenuous peace between the dragonlords and their sniveling vassals is killing Tarkir. If only the dragon wars could have continued for another millenium or two," Rinok sighed wistfully. "I'll just have to start something new. Silumgar is easily offended, though slow to rise."

"You aren't the only walker who lost a home to the dragon wars, you know," Marthel said. "I know several who were sad to see the Sultai and Temur go as well. Myself included. Besides, I'm not here to help you start another war."

"Why have you come here, then, if not to join me?"

"I have another proposition for you. Not a war, but a gathering."

"For what purpose?" Rinok crossed his arms. "I am not so lightly taken away from my quest of reviving the multiverse."

"When was the last time you had a good revel?"

"I revel in the act of war. The blood of my enemies spraying my body, the melody of their dying screams filling my heart with joy."

"Do you not celebrate victory?"

"Victory implies the war is over and that I have won. I feel no satisfaction in winning."

"Still Rakdos to the core, I see. You live for the kill."

"No. I do not slaughter meaninglessly," Rinok countered. "I am a champion of renewal, the herald of war."

"We have this conversation every time I see you, Rinok." Marthel yawned. "I'll never understand you, just like I'll never understand the Voidcaller's fascination with destroying the multiverse just because she can."

"Our paths have crossed before, and I understand what you mean. I have no desire to end the multiverse. I seek to keep it going, to fuel passion in the hearts of men and women. Very few things can do that to the extent war can. There is a need to defend what is ours, to take what we want or believe we should have. That need must be fulfilled."

"Are you coming to my party or not?"

"If I find myself without a war to start, I may join you."

"Good luck starting another war on Tarkir, Rinok," Marthel said. "You'd have better luck in New Phyrexia or Zendikar."

"I have heard tales of these places," Rinok scoffed. "They are not at war. They are merely denying fate. They stand in the face of certain extinction and will lose without honor or glory. Their bravery is stupidity and they will fade into shadow. My exploits have been immortalized in story and song on countless planes. The general who will send his army to their deaths and still come out victorious."

"I've heard your stories. So much loss, so much waste."

"The weak exist to fuel the strong, Marthel. War is what makes us strong."

"I'm aware. That said, I still prefer to watch and learn. Much can be learned from peace just as much can be learned from war. And sometimes war destroys a plane. Have you been to Helheim recently or at all?"

"Never."

"A friend of mine lives there as the lord of all Helheim. He is a walker like us living as the king of a dead world that he has reshaped into his own image. That world was destroyed utterly by a final battle eons ago. All that is left are the corpses of the fallen. Now they are the Grave Birther's puppets," Marthel explained.

"Then they did not understand the truth of war."

"The truth of war is that people die. Too many people died there, so all the people died." Marthel was becoming exasperated. Every time he and Rinok ran into each other, they had the exact same debate. His acquaintance was single-minded about his quest to renew the multiverse, never considering he might destroy it instead.

"It matters not."

"I'll see you when I see you, Rinok. If you're looking for me, come to Ravnica."

"Goodbye Marthel."


	7. Chapter 7

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Leaving the Nest

Sa'Raah brushed some sand off of her hardened scale armor created from the skin of a fallen comrade. It was difficult to travel anywhere in the territory of Dromoka without finding fine grains lodged in creases and finding their way into one's boots. The only elf on Tarkir shook out her long, blonde hair and habitually hid her pointed ears beneath it. Sa'Raah was a planeswalker and the favored daughter of Dromoka, the Eternal. She could seek an audience with the dragonlord whenever she wished, unlike the other humanoids in the clan who had little to do with the dragonlord, and had the full support of her adoptive mother in all her exploits for the benefit of the clan. Sa'Raah paused and thought that this latest exploit, the one she wanted the advice of her mother about, might not be met with Dromoka's characteristic maternal support and interest.

She would never know until she tried, though. Sa'Raah entered the wide courtyard where Dromoka lounged on a bed of warm sand under the vast expanse of Tarkir's sky. Sa'Raah couldn't believe that at one point in history mankind warred with the dragons, especially with her mother. Dromoka was arguably the most compassionate of all five dragonlords. Surely the humans should have rallied under her banner to usher in an age of peace rather than lose so many lives to foolish war. Dromoka's quarrel with the humans of the Abzan clans had been over their perverse custom of raising the spirits of their dead ancestors rather than allowing them to rest in peace as was the proper course of nature. The era of calm since the dragonlords took over had only been marred by a small rebellion once in the last thousand years, and that had been fairly recently. It was easily squashed by the dragonlord Kolaghan.

"Mother," Sa'Raah said, catching the attention of the aged dragon with scales the color of sandstone. Sa'Raah had her own scales of a similar color, having been granted the dragonscale boon by Dromoka herself. Her status as a voidwalker also gave her special permissions in the clan and had been why Dromoka had taken an interest in her in the first place.

"What is it, child?"

Sa'Raah didn't know how to begin. She was incredibly grateful to Dromoka for adopting her into the clan that shared the she-dragon's name during a time in her life when all Sa'Raah knew was kill or be killed. She could hardly remember the time before her spark had awoken, tossing her through plane after plane before settling on the shard of Alara called Jund and inhabited by a savage breed of dragons. Sa'Raah wasn't even the name she was born with, but rather one she made for herself as well as the title Broodculler. She had kept the name, but under Dromoka's careful tutelage she adopted a new title, Envoy of Dragonfire, and learned to care for the dragons she once destroyed mercilessly.

"You once told me that I'm a voidwalker, and that there are others like me," Sa'Raah began.

"And now you wish to leave our nest and find them?"

Sa'Raah was taken aback by the suggestion. She was certainly curious about the others, but she did not want to leave just to find them.

"No, I want to leave in order to find a way for us to expand our territory, to fill the worlds with our brood."

"You've been spending more time with my sister lately, haven't you?" Dromoka asked. It wasn't an accusation, merely a mother's curiosity. Atarka wasn't Dromoka's true sister. Like all dragons in Tarkir they were born fully grown in the great dragon storms, but the dragonlords felt some semblance of kinship to one another. Dromoka even cared for her wild sister Kolaghan and her brothers, the dark Silumgar and the studious Ojutai. Savage Atarka wasn't one for conversation, however, preferring the thrill of the hunt to unite her clan underneath her. New prey excited Atarka in the same way as new knowledge excited their brother, Ojutai.

"My time here living with you has taught me so much, mother," Sa'Raah said. "I know dragons exist elsewhere. I want to unite them under our banners and teach them what you've taught me."

"These are lessons not everyone would appreciate, daughter. In your former home do you believe they would adopt our ways?"

"I'm sure if I tried hard enough I could make them see reason. United we are an unstoppable force. By devouring one another, we may gain the strength of one body but lose the strength of numbers."

"It seems I've taught you well. You did not possess such wisdom or compassion for your fellow creatures when you came to me." Dromoka let out a satisfied rumble. "However, I think you should save a return visit to Jund for later in your quest. You know my sister Kolaghan's brood as well. They are headstrong, bloodthirsty, and hard to satisfy, not unlike the dragons you encountered in that place."

"It's true they are similar, mother." Sa'Raah nodded in agreement. "And you're wise to caution me against going back so soon. If I were to return and persuade those dragons I would need an army of my own."

"Travel through the space between spaces, then. Amass your army and bring them to the door of each and every world. Let them know of the might of the Dragonlords of Tarkir and their scion, Sa'Raah, the Envoy of Dragonfire." Dromoka spread her wings and let out a triumphant roar that echoed across the sands.


	8. Chapter 8

Planar Chaos

Ignitions: Raiding Party

Slaughter had been his life. It was his first love and his truest, but like all long term relationships, it had lost its spark. Rinok just didn't feel the same way about the passionate yet mindless slaughter that was a core part of the Cult of Rakdos. He needed a direction for his violent impulses, a cause to champion. Raiding fulfilled both of those needs, but mimicking the Boros could not give Rinok what he really wanted. It wasn't just the organized killing. It was the glory he craved. The Rakdos knew of glory for their dread lord, but individual glory was a foreign concept. Rinok longed to lead men and women, to form armies that would increase his strength and the glory of his own name.

He'd first joined a Boros raiding party on accident. There had been a large group of warriors gathered in the Tin Street Market and Rinok eavesdropped to see what was going on. Apparently they were going to be raiding a Golgari compound. Rinok slipped into their ranks and listened intently. He never cared much for the bottom dwelling Golgari who created abominations out of Ravnica's refuse. Their meddling with life and death gave him the creeps even more than Simic experiments or the Orzhov ghost council ever could.

A minotaur seemed to be their leader. His shaggy brown fur was swept back from his large eyes. Rinok saw in those eyes a flame he'd been missing. These soldiers around him were united by a common cause, something the Rakdos had always lacked.

"Men, today we battle for the sanctity of Ravnica's dead," the minotaur said. His voice was low and strong. Rinok felt his heart start to pound like a war drum as the speech continued. "Today we remind the Golgari of their limits under the statutes put in place to protect us from their foul desecration. They will not go unpunished for these transgressions against our sacred halls where the honored dead lay to rest. We will not yield, we will not be passive, we will fight!"

The men and women around Rinok all raised their fists in a mighty war cry, "For the Boros!"

"Aurelia gives us her blessing. Do not waste it." The minotaur turned over his shoulder, leading the band southward towards their target. Rinok became swept up in the current of moving bodies and had no choice but to follow.

Once in Ravnica's undercity, Rinok was shocked at the ferociousness with which the Boros soldiers fought and the camaraderie between them. Each soldier would defend his brothers and sisters in arms to the last. This was certainly absent in the Rakdos. They knew no sense of family, only devotion to their slumbering Lord of Riots. That devotion was made concrete by offerings of blood in ceremonies led by the guild's blood witches since time immemorial. The blood could come from anywhere, so long as it was shed in a frenzy.

This raid wasn't a frenzy. It was well planned and methodical, but that didn't mean it lacked passion. The Boros soldiers truly believed in what they were fighting and killing for. More than once they came to Rinok's aid even though they didn't know him. Rinok felt his heart soaring as he helped the Boros press further and further into the undercity.

The raid finished and Rinok found himself exhilarated and breathless. The old minotaur pulled him aside.

"That was your first raid. I've never seen you before." He looked Rinok up and down. The shaggy hair and ragged clothing easily gave this boy away as one of the Rakdos, but the minotaur saw something in the young man's eyes that reminded him of a younger version of himself. The quest for glory could choose anyone, even a Rakdos boy, if their heart was made of the right stuff.

"It was amazing. All of us fighting together instead of against each other," Rinok couldn't catch his breath.

"That is the beauty of the struggle," the minotaur said. "It can unite people from all walks of life under the banner of a single cause. I should like to see you joining our raids again, and possibly our guild one day."

"I look forward to it," Rinok said.

It had been less than a week since the raid and Rinok was growing restless. He paced the floors of the Rakdos compound, cringing at the noises made by the chains hanging from the ceiling. The Chainwalkers were not practicing their act today, leaving their props to sway and clink in a grim reminder of the celebration to come.

The door to the compound burst open and a combination of Boros soldiers and Azorius Justicars flooded inside. From seemingly out of nowhere hundreds of Rakdos poured into the room and a battle began. Law magic hindered the reckless Rakdos in their defense against the relentless assault. They unleashed the full extent of their power, but had left themselves wide open to counter-moves and counter-magic. Rinok wondered why the Boros were raiding the Rakdos compound in the first place. He'd heard nothing from the minotaur since he returned home after his first raid.

Rinok had a choice to make. He could fight on the side of the Boros and the minotaur warrior who had opened his eyes to what life could truly be or he could remain loyal to the guild who raised him and hadn't killed him for sport. Yet.

The decision needed to be made soon. Justicars, Soldiers, and cultists were converging around him. It seemed like each one looked upon Rinok with accusatory eyes, demanding he join their side. Rinok was backed into a corner, and like many beasts it was dangerous to corner a member of the Rakdos. A legionnaire brandished a long pike and lunged at Rinok. Rinok lashed out and knocked the pike aside. He was about to smash his fist through the legionnaire's helmet when the world suddenly changed around him.

He was pulled through a gray void at an alarming speed yet it also felt like it took forever to reach his destination. He awoke on a battlefield laying among the dead. Rinok stood, staggering towards a thin trail of smoke in the distance.

Rinok found that the smoke came from an encampment. Soldiers of different races wearing various kinds of armor sat together around their cooking fires singing songs and telling stories. Rinok felt a certain electricity in the air that reminded him of the Boros soldiers.

"Good to see you alive, soldier." A man wearing regalia that obviously meant he had some rank clapped Rinok on the shoulder. "Get yourself some new armor commissioned from the smith. It seems the enemy tore yours right off thinking you were dead."

"Where... am I?" Rinok asked. He raised a hand to his forehead and winced.

"Blow to the head will do that," the man said. "But I'll humor you if only so you can get back out there faster. This is Valla. We've been at war as long as anyone can remember, and it's not going to stop anytime soon. Certainly not long enough for you to be asking dumb questions. Do I make myself clear?"

"Mhm." Rinok nodded.

"What was that, soldier?"

"Y-yes sir," Rinok stammered, still disoriented. He would have to figure out the details of what happened to him later.


	9. Chapter 9

Planar Chaos

Chapter Four: Make New Friends

Marthel found himself on a plane he didn't mean to go to. The mana rich atmosphere invigorated him, but also confused him. Wasn't this where New Phyrexia was supposed to be?

A thought occurred to him. Shandalar. He was on the wandering plane. His quest to hunt down Odom could wait. This was Kyari's home plane, and he certainly needed to find her as well. He only hoped that she was home and not somewhere else.

Marthel looked around to get his bearings. The ocean lay before him, the Eloren and Kalonian wilds behind. Kyari was an elf and would feel more at home among the trees. That would be where he started his search.

He caught something out of the corner of his eye. A bright banner of blonde hair that could only belong to an elf fluttered in the sea breeze. There was someone hanging off of the cliffs that rose sharply above the water to his left and they seemed to be the object of interest for a group Shandalar's faerie dragons.

The faerie dragons were hardly dangerous, their delicate wings were fragile and they preferred to ride high thermals far above the ground and away from the conflicts with slivers below. However, the hive on Shandalar had begun to adopt wings into some of their designs, expanding their territory into the skies and competing with the faerie dragons for space.

Marthel was certain that the woman hanging from the cliffs wasn't Kyari. She also wasn't like the elves of Shandalar in the way she carried herself. There was a certain feral aspect to her that drew on his interest. Moreover, Shandalar's elves didn't usually parlay with dragons. He thought he had something of a sixth sense for spotting other walkers, and it had rarely proved him wrong in the past.

He began to climb the cliffs behind the elf woman. As he drew closer he noticed her face was marked with scales and she also sported a set of small horns. She looked unlike any elf he had ever seen on Shandalar, cementing his opinion that she was a walker. When he was several feet below her he called out, "Salutations fellow walker."

The elf woman craned her neck to look down at Marthel. "What?"

"You're a planeswalker, are you not? So am I!" He had to shout to be heard above the waves and the wind.

She nodded then gestured up towards the top of the cliffs and started to climb. Marthel followed after her. She wore a strange dragon scale armor he hadn't seen since he was last on Tarkir visiting his savage mother, Atarka. It was worn by the Dromoka, but only by those who had attained great favor with their dragonlord. Her facial scales and horns, Marthel reasoned, must have been a dragonscale boon from Dromoka herself.

"I knew I wasn't the only one, but I never expected to meet another this soon," she said, helping Marthel over the edge of the cliff.

"There are more of us that one would think," Marthel replied. He dusted his traveling cloak off and settled into a cross legged position on the ground. The elf woman was kneeling in front of him, a small dragonling coiled around her forearm. "I'm Marthel, there are some who know me as the Maelstrom Mage."

"Sa'Raah." She extended her hand. Marthel was surprised by her strong grip. "Mother gave me the title 'Envoy of Dragonfire'."

"I've heard of you, actually." Jace didn't spend as much time on Tarkir as he would have liked, but he did hear the stories from the Atarka about Dromoka's strange daughter. A woman who was as wild and savage as the Kolaghan had attacked one of Dromoka's brood. Rather than destroying the whelp, Dromoka had taken her in and raised her once she sensed the wild woman's power. "We might be something of cousins. I consider Atarka to be my mother in her way."

"She's not particularly maternal," Sa'Raah said, "but I learned just as much from her as I did from Dromoka. Hunting is alot like any other prospect in life. It requires patience and ferocity when necessary."

"Tarkir wasn't your home plane, was it?"

"I call it home now. Before that I was in a place called Jund where you had to devour others in order to survive and gain strength. Before that, I honestly don't know. All I remember is falling, a few brief flashes of different places, always the thought of dragons." Sa'Raah looked down at the dragonling that had now moved to her lap. "I never knew, before mother, just how amazing it would be to join with them rather than battle them."

"Sometimes that happens when the spark ignites. I know of a walker whose body became replaced with maelstrom magic."

"I know of the maelstrom." Sa'Raah shivered.

"Alara is whole once again," Marthel told her.

"Then it may be easier to return and fulfill my purpose. I seek to unite the dragons of the planes under the banners of our mothers. A dragon empire of prosperity and glory."

"Better not let one particular dragon hear you say such things," Marthel cautioned. "If you ever come across a large, yellow dragon holding a gem between his horns, run."

"Bolas," Sa'Raah muttered bitterly.

"You know him?"

"Of him. He is a perversion of dragonkind who cares not for his fellow beings."

"Exactly."

"I will exercise caution, but he will either unite or fall. I would see him fall. Mother dislikes competition." Sa'Raah stroked the dragonling's head. It closed its eyes, made a small rumbling noise, and smoke leaked from its nostrils.

"There's another plane with dragons you might like," Marthel said slyly.

"Where?" Sa'Raah looked back up at Marthel with a fever in her eyes.

"A place called Ravnica. There is a dragon there like our mothers who rules his own clan, although they call them guilds. Niv Mizzet is a vain creature, though, who fancies himself the most powerful being in existence. In a way, he is right."

"I think I should go there." Sa'Raah said.

"Well I'm having a get together with some other walkers I have met on my travels there as well. You should come to that, at least. You could meet others like us."

"Yes, I think I will."

"I look forward to seeing you again, Sa'Raah." Marthel rose and helped Sa'Raah off of the ground. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more friends to find."

He planeswalked, leaving Sa'Raah alone with her dragons.


	10. Chapter 10

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Study Buddies

"Ow! Kyari, you've got to hold it still," Odom said, attempting to wrangle a baby two-headed dragon.

"If what you've told me of the Simic is true," the elf planeswalker said, "then why do you need a sample from a two-headed dragon on Mercadia of all planes?"

"Because I haven't gotten a biological sample from this species yet," Odom replied. "Now use the spell."

Kyari drew mana from the earth, pulling it up through her feet like the roots of a tree absorbed nutrients from the soil. From a young age she'd been able to cast spells, even before her spark ignited. It was common on the mana-rich plane of Shandalar. She coaxed it into the unfamiliar spell, entrapping the baby dragon inside of a sphere and holding it motionless.

Odom looked down at his mutilated arm. Baby dragons, just like the fully grown ones, put up a fight. This particular dragon had sunk both of its sets of teeth into his arm, the fleshy one, not the tree arm.

"I suppose it can't be helped," Odom said. His arm began to melt, dripping down onto the ground and forming a puddle that was then reabsorbed through his feet. A brand new arm dripped into existence. Kyari looked at him in mild horror, the detention sphere wavering as her concentration was broken momentarily. A loud shriek was heard from the two-headed dragon before being silenced again.

"So..." Kyari said, "do I want to know?"

"You wound up on New Phyrexia the first time you walked. I wound up in the maelstrom, missing most of my limbs."

"Good to know. We should start calling you the Maelstrom Mage," Kyari joked.

"Honestly you probably should, but Marthel has laid claim to that title even though I spent years in the Maelstrom before his spark even ignited." There was an edge to Odom's voice. Kyari decided to not press the subject any further.

Odom took out a small knife and reached inside of the detention sphere. He took a scraping of scales from the baby dragon's tail and trimmed a few of its claws. The precious samples were corked inside of a vial and the dragon was released.

"What are you doing?" The cry came from above them. Running towards them was another elf with long blonde hair and dragonscale armor. At first Kyari also thought she was wearing a dragon helmet. As she drew closer it became apparent that the scales and horns were a part of the new elf. "How dare you hurt that baby?" Another dragon with thick jaws and scales the color of sandstone swooped down behind her.

"We're not hurting it," Kyari explained. She picked up the angry dragonling and cast a regeneration spell. The scales and claws were restored within moments. It jumped into the air and made a motion that could only be described as a scamper as it flew away.

"I just needed to collect some samples. We were going to let it go all along," Odom said. "By the way, speaking of samples, could I get a scale or some claw trimmings from that mount of yours?"

"Arashi isn't my mount. He's my brother," the elf said. "I would never ride on his back like a horse. That would be an incredible disrespect to him."

"That dragon isn't from this plane," Kyari said with wide eyes. She'd found dragons who could channel the red mana around them to breathe fire, but this creature before her was unlike anything she'd ever seen. Its strong jaws and sandstone scales were utterly unique. It exuded an aura that seemed to bolster its allies. Kyari wondered what mana would be used to summon such a creature. Possibly white?

"No, he isn't, and nor am I." The elf woman began to grow angry with these people who would dare trap a dragon. "I am Sa'Raah, the Envoy of Dragonfire, child of Dromoka. What business do you have in besieging my brothers and sisters?"

Odom answered first. "I'm just trying to learn a thing or two about things with two heads."

"I wish to study all life," Kyari said. "It is my hope to understand the nature of all creatures and the mana that flows through us all."

"A noble pursuit, I suppose," Sa'Raah said. "What are your names? Mother would scold me for forgetting my manners."

"Odom."

"Kyari Alexiona, Sylvan Ranger."

"You're an elf, aren't you?" Sa'Raah pushed her hair behind her pointed ears, still visible among her scales.

"Yes," Kyari replied, mimicking the gesture.

"I thought so. Elves understand the need to protect nature. Our connection to the creatures of the planes we inhabit gives us an edge against those who would seek to destroy. Join with me, fellow elf, under the banner of my mother and help me unite the planes in peace under one Dragonlord."

"Lords? I have no use for lords," Kyari said. "I do, however, value peace. In peace I can continue my work."

"What of you, Odom?" Sa'Raah turned to the man in blue and green robes. "Would you aid me in my quest?"

"Honestly, I don't see what the hurry is. There's a lot out there to do so I'll keep my options open." He shrugged and slipped the vial into a pocket of his robes. That pocket then seemed to disappear. Kyari shivered involuntarily. Were the robes made of ooze as well? Was Odom just naked and shifted his ooze body into whatever form he needed?

"I'll give you the chance if we ever cross paths again, though it's unlikely," Sa'Raah said calmly. She hopped back on Arashi's back and they took off into the air across Mercadia to find the nest of the dragonling's mother.

"She seems..." Kyari began.

"As singleminded as everyone else we know." Odom was reminded of Sverre, Ashleigh, and the other walkers he had met. They had their quests, their purposes for living, and that was all they tended to talk about. Ashleigh at least could be distracted by some new piece of Izzet tech or interesting project Odom was working on. He supposed that was for the best. If the Voidcaller were to actually focus on her plan to destroy the multiverse and bask in its sublime emptiness, she would have halfway succeeded by now.

"Can't people just be happy with living in peace and learning about the world around them?" Kyari sighed, exasperated. Even Odom frustrated her. He meddled with life, mutating and perverting it into new and abhorrent forms just because he could. She hated to think of what would be done with the biological samples taken from the Mercadian dragon.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"If you'd just try you'd be able to see."

"Come on. I hear that there are artifact creatures on Theros that produce their own mana of any color they need."

"That would be interesting." Kyari smiled. Creatures that produced mana were of a particular interest to her. Sometimes they just channeled it passively. Other times they actually created mana to be used. She hoped this creature on Theros was the latter of the two.


	11. Chapter 11

Planar Chaos

Chapter Five: Interruptions are in Order

For some reason Marthel knew he would find Kyari on Equilor. This was the Multiverse's most ancient plane, and one Marthel himself had longed to visit. It might possibly be home to planeswalkers older than Urza and Nicol Bolas who would tell him more about those that came before. It might possibly be the origin point of the entire multiverse and was famed as a nexus of knowledge and powerful magic.

Yes, if there was anywhere the Sylvan Ranger would go, it would be here. She longed for understanding and this was the best place to find it. Life might have originated here, and life was Kyari Alexiona's area of study.

He found the elf walker seated on the ground outside of Bloodhill Bastion in deep conversation with a Sphinx-like creature. The walls of the city looked to be made of flesh and pulsed with a type of life. Kyari extended her hand with the permission of the Sphinx to touch the wall. She jerked it back in apparent alarm.

"Kyari!" Marthel called, waving his arms to catch her attention.

The Sphinx and Kyari looked up. Her face fell, and the Sphinx's expression became a scowl. As Marthel moved closer he overheard their conversation take a very different turn.

"You promised you were the only one, that there wouldn't be others."

"I didn't know he'd follow me here, honest." Kyari looked at the Sphinx with pleading eyes. "I don't even know how he found me. We haven't seen each other in what must be years."

"Three years, four months, twenty-two days, and about six hours if my count is right," Marthel chimed in.

"It doesn't matter, Marthel. You need to go. I'm busy."

"It is you, Kyari Alexiona, daughter of Shandalar, who must leave," the Sphinx said. It stared deep into Kyari's eyes. It might have been staring down into her soul and looking at her spark. She hoped the powerful being liked what it saw.

Kyari couldn't keep her eyes open anymore. She blinked. The Sphinx smiled at her coyly. "You may return. Alone." Kyari bent her head in assent. She rose and walked over to where Marthel casually stood.

"You always have to meddle in everyone's affairs, don't you." She grabbed his hand and planeswalked, dragging him along with her. They landed in a field outside of Akros on the plane of Theros. "Don't you realize how hard it is to get into Equilor? I had to try on six different occasions before they decided I was worthy enough to enter. And even then they were very specific about the terms. I had to leave my hydra here." She let out a low whistle and a Kalonian hydra's heads rose above the field's tall grass. It bounded over to her, its many heads nuzzling and butting her playfully. "Do you know how dangerous it is for a hydra on Theros?"

"So why did you go to Theros? Why not leave it on Shandalar?"

"Shandalar is a rogue plane. It wanders through the multiverse. I might not have been able to make it back in a timely manner." Kyari absentmindedly scratched the hydra under two of its chins.

"I see your point," Marthel said.

"You could apologize, you know."

"For what?"

"For getting me kicked off of the plane where life began? The plane where my studies could have progressed beyond anything either of us could imagine?"

"At least you found it before the Grave Birther did."

"The who?"

"A walker I know who uses blue, green, and black magic."

"One of the corrupted." Kyari scowled. "He's taken our gift for life and twisted it into something terrible no doubt."

Marthel shrugged. "I wouldn't put him on the levels of Rinok as far as corruption goes, but I suppose you could see him that way."

"Rinok is even worse. He has taken white magic and warped it into some bizarre quest for eternal strife. It gives us the gift of protecting the weak and evening the odds against evil, yet all he can think of is his next conflict, the next opportunity for slaughter." Her stomach rolled just thinking about battlefields left in Rinok's wake. Somehow he whipped the inhabitants of a plane into a frenzy until they were begging to go to war and kill each other. They could have had a perfect peace only yesterday. Kyari sighed. She wished more planes could be like Equilor.

"Well, I'm sorry you two don't get along, but I'll have to ask you to be civil when you're at my party."

"What?"

"I'm throwing a party on Ravnica. You're invited."

Kyari pressed on the bridge of her nose with a thumb and forefinger. "That is what you were trying to find me for?"

"Yes."

Kyari began to laugh hysterically. "I'm sorry, but it's just so funny. You tell the best jokes, Marthel, you really do. Now why did you really come find me?"

"That was it, actually."

Now she was angry. "You interrupted my study with the beings of Equilor just so you could invite me to a party?" The heads of her hydra turned to look at Marthel, saliva dripping from their mouths. Marthel turned and began to run. The Kalonia hydra bolted after him, catching up to him quickly. Then it was airborne with the aid of an enchantment Marthel himself had taught Kyari. Large spectral angel wings had sprouted from the hydra's back, carrying it over Marthel and letting it land in front of him. Suddenly Kyari was behind his back.

"So I take this as a no in my RSVP list?"

"Oh no. I'll come. I just hope it's worth it."

Marthel had grown up in Bant. All three colors of magic were present in Kyari and they all angered in very different ways. Green mages tended to empower themselves for a counterstrike. Blue mages plotted and planned. White mages smote their enemies in cascades of divine fire. She could do any of the three at any time and Marthel would only have a split second's notice.

He planeswalked in a panic, leaving Kyari alone in the field with her hydra.


	12. Chapter 12

Planar Chaos

Ignitions: Artificer? I hardly knew her.

It started out as the actual worst day in Odom's life thus far. He was forced to coop himself up in a lab and work for hours until the task was completed. If it had been something interesting, he might have been more excited. As it stood, he would rather be a sacrifice to the Lord of Riots or sell his soul to the Obzedat.

Of all the projects for Odom to get stuck with, artifice had always been his least favorite. Up until now he'd been able to pawn them off onto other Izzet guildmages, but now he had no such luck. It didn't help that he had no idea what this artifact was supposed to do, either. Even if he did, he wouldn't know how to make it do the thing.

It wasn't just that Odom disliked artifice as a form of magic. He was terrible at it. Most of the time he gave away those projects for the safety of everyone involved even though his guild as a whole wasn't much for safety regulations. Much more his style was the crafting of new spells or life forms, a passion he'd developed working on the Izzet weirds and truly perfected by bouncing back and forth between Niv Mizzet and the Simic under Momir Vig. The latter were working on something big, and Odom always liked to be a part of something big. It required tonnes of biomass to be mutated until it was absolutely perfect. For now it just looked like a large ooze bubbling in the incubation chamber.

He turned his attention back to the task at hand. If he didn't want to die in an explosion, he had better be careful. Artifacts were tricky business and never really worked the way you wanted them to, at least in his experience. Odom also just hated relying on artifacts outside of his signets. They were an ingenious piece of engineering that could take any form of mana and transmute it into two colors. Needless to say, all the guilds of Ravnica had adopted signets to give out to their members. Odom himself possessed three, one from the Izzet, one from the Simic, and one from the Gruul because they always knew how to throw a good party.

"Okay. So if I just twist this this way," Odom carefully turned a knob on the artifact clockwise, wincing at each clicking sound. When nothing happened, he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

That breath proved to be his undoing. Without warning, the artifact burst apart. A blinding light tore through his lab and everything in a four city block radius. Denizens of Ravnica saw this burst of light and then there was nothing. The entire blast radius appeared to have been razed to the ground and completely vaporized. They had no way of knowing that inside that blast, Odom and everything else were sucked into the blind eternities where they were lost forever.

Odom was the only thing to emerge on the other side. His broken body lay in a pool of raw mana swirling in Alara's roiling maelstrom. The mana began to reform the pieces of Odom's body that did not survive the journey from Ravnica, most notably his left arm and the right half of his face. It coalesced into an ooze that swarmed over the dying newborn planeswalker and kept him in a sort of stasis.

The first being that stumbled across Odom lying there was a large elemental with glowing orange eyes, treelike limbs interspersed with vines, and a soft blue frill that looked to be made of cloud. It bent what could best be described as its nose down and gently touched the ooze holding Odom together. The ooze began to take on a shape that was vaguely human, but borrowing some characteristics from its new friend.

Odom woke with a start, taking a long gasp of breath before a coughing fit overtook him. He looked up into the intelligent eyes of the creature that had found him. The elemental touched its nose once more to Odom's forehead and he felt an overwhelming kinship with this being who had come to him as he lay dying.

" _Same."_

As weakened as he was, Odom found himself able to climb onto the back of the creature. Its frill was indeed made of soft cloud that insulated him from the whirling, chaotic maelstrom of mana around him. This seemed to be the elemental's home. It moved forward without fear or hesitation, stopping occasionally to drink from the pools of raw mana.

Odom began to ask questions, not aloud, of course. The elemental couldn't talk. He wondered if he was dead and the Selesnya were right about there being an afterlife the Orzhov could not touch. If so, it seemed like he'd found his paradise. An explosion of that size must have killed him.

He rolled his shoulders and was confused by a creaking feeling. He rolled the left one again and still felt it. Odom looked down at his left arm to see that it had been replaced with wood from wrist to elbow. This wasn't just any wood, though. It matched the limbs of the elemental he rode including the winding vines that seemed to grow out of his skin. He was a hybrid more bizarre than anything the Simic could dream up.

There was no other explanation. He had to be dead. So why did he feel more alive than he had been before?


	13. Chapter 13

Planar Chaos

Chapter Six: Uninvited Guests

Vilhelm rounded a corner only to immediately backtrack and flatten himself against the brick wall. He peered around the corner when he was satisfied the elf woman hadn't seen him. What was she doing here? How was it possible? The last time he'd seen her, she had disappeared after he failed in perfecting his process for mental domination. It must have been years ago, but what were years in the life of a vampire?

She seemed different but even under that dragon helmet he knew it was her. Vilhelm could only explain her presence by assuming that she was like him, a planeswalker. He hadn't been able to truly control his fellow walkers yet, but he could still read their minds. He reached out and brushed his telepathic fingers across the surface of her mind, not daring to go any deeper.

He found a lot about dragons. This woman seemed to be an open book when it came to the beasts. She'd been to many planes and met many kinds. The dragons of Jund and Tarkir featured prominently in her memories, but there was little before her time on those planes. Vilhelm let out a sigh of relief. She couldn't remember him. She couldn't remember the way he'd desperately tried to take over her mind in order for her to shield him against a dragon attack.

He withdrew his mental probe and turned back down the alleyway to where Mikael was waiting for him.

"Hello, old friend," Vilhelm greeted his thrall. Mikael had once been his closest friend, his right hand. The vampires had stood together against the Voldaren in order to halt the vampire Baroness's expansion of her hunting grounds. It had been Mikael's betrayal that sent Vilhelm tumbling through eternity and opened his mind to the truth of existence. The only way to achieve peace was for him to control everyone. He began that quest with Mikael, the dear friend who sold him out to Olivia Voldaren and stabbed him in the back, both metaphorically and literally. Vilhelm could still feel the moonsilver dagger's entry wound and it had left a prominent scar.

"My liege," Mikael bowed slightly.

"Change of plans, Mikael, we are going to begin our work elsewhere."

"...And I'm not sure who else is going to be there, but it will be a lot of walkers." The elf woman was walking down the alleyway towards Vilhelm and Mikael, a baby dragon wrapped around her arm. It was a dragon of this plane, one that could be bought easily in one of the many black markets. That might have been what she was doing here. She was accompanied by another woman, one Vilhelm had heard of from Mikael. The information was not divulged voluntarily. Vilhelm could no longer count on Mikael as he once did. Should a mind mage decided to peek into Mikael's head they would find nothing left of the man, only a powerful devotion to Vilhelm. He'd been able to read Mikael's memories before they were obliterated. According to those memories this woman called herself the Voidcaller and had set up a manor for herself in the style of the vampire lords, but instead of a grand castle she lived in a repurposed cathedral of Avacyn.

"Marthel has come to me as well," the Voidcaller replied. "He also inadvertently drew several flights of angels to my abode. I will be attending his gathering and I know several of the others who will be there. I could introduce you."

"Really?" The elf woman's voice shot up several octaves.

"Of course. After all, one needs friends and allies. I believe you might get along with a dear friend of mine, Odom."

"Oh I've met him." The elf woman scowled. "We met some time ago on Mercadia. He was trapping a dragon with another elf. I didn't know he was a planeswalker."

"The elf he was with likely is as well. He's told me of his 'study buddy', as he calls Kyari." The Voidcaller's expression was one of a person who had a bad tastes in their mouth. "I have nothing to be jealous about, though."

"Jealous?" The elf woman raised an eyebrow. Vilhelm silenced a chuckle as realization flooded over her face. "Oh! You're, like, a thing."

"Sort of." The Voidcaller might not have been born a noble, but she was a lady to the core. Ladies never kissed and told. "I'm glad I could help you, though. Black markets are tricky business and it takes an experienced hand to haggle the price until it is right. Now, that spell you promised for my help?"

"Oh! Of course." The elf woman reached into a rucksack and pulled out a scroll. "I went ahead and wrote it down for you so you can commit it to your own memory if we're ever apart when you need it."

"Excellent. Thank you, my dear. I suppose I'll see you on Ravnica?"

"I'll do my best to be there."

They passed Vilhelm and Mikael without giving them a second glance.

Vilhelm began thinking. There was going to be a gathering of an indeterminate amount of planeswalkers all in one place. Planeswalkers were, by and large, the most difficult beings in the multiverse to control. If he couldn't outright control them, he could at least manipulate them into doing his bidding. In order to do that, he would need to assess them. That would prove difficult seeing as they were scattered across the multiverse. Walkers rarely gathered in large numbers. This was a golden opportunity.

"Mikael, my friend, we are beginning our great work on Ravnica, the city of guilds."

"As you wish, my liege."


	14. Chapter 14

Planar Chaos

One Shots: The Cure for Betrayal

How long had it been since Vilhelm had left Innistrad? Months? Years? Would anyone remember him or had too much time passed?

He smiled coldly. What were a few years to a vampire? He was certain he would be remembered, especially by that Voldaren bitch and her precious pet, Mikael. Vilhelm's smile warped into a frown as he recalled Mikael's betrayal during their last stand against Olivia Voldaren's armies. The Baroness now stood seemingly unopposed with complete rule over this region of Innistrad. Even the Avacynian clerics didn't dare stand in her way. That was a task for the immortal angels.

Vilhelm looked down at his tunic and brushed a bit of dust from the velvet brocade. He looked much the same as when he'd left, but his armor had been traded for the finery of a noble. Vilhelm smiled once again. His nobility was no longer because of his blood, but because of his newfound purpose in life. He needed to thank Mikael for allowing him to see the light of eternity and embrace infinity. It had opened his eyes to a sickness that lied upon the hearts of men across all worlds. It was Vilhelm's intent to cure it.

He approached the palace and stated his request to the footman, a young vampire still twitching with blood-frenzy. It was in this state vampires were the most dangerous and the most vulnerable. Blood was all they thought about. They often forgot their surroundings and wound up with a stake through their hearts.

"I request an audience with Mikael, servant of Baroness Voldaren."

"Name?" The whelp snapped. If Vilhelm had been the lord of this manner, even new blood would know their place and have good manners when addressing visitors. In fact, Vilhelm should have been the lord of this manner. But those petty concerns had been replaced with a grander vision on a much higher scale.

"Just let him know it's an old friend."

"Of course, sir." The apathetic (or was he just pathetic?) footman opened the door and led Vilhelm to the drawing room. Like the rest of the manor, it was decorated with blacks and reds. Vilhelm sat on a red chaise longue to wait for Mikael.

Vilhelm wondered if Mikael would be at all surprised to see him. By all accounts, Vilhelm was dead by Mikael's hand. During their final battle, his best friend had raised a moonsilver dagger and plunged it directly into Vilhelm's spine. Instead of dying, however, Vilhelm was transported somewhere new. He fell through eternity and awoke in a darkened alley with a new sense of purpose. The only way to ensure peace was to control everything, down to the last beast of the field. All the worlds would be his to command, to shape into the image he chose, and it would be glorious. A new era of peace and prosperity would blanket the multiverse forever and ever.

After all, Vilhelm was a vampire and vampires didn't die easily. Sorin Markov, arguably the most famous vampire in the multiverse, had experienced every form of pain imaginable and he not only survived but ascended to the same status Vilhelm now held: that of a planeswalker.

The door to the drawing room opened and Vilhelm rose, as was the polite thing to do. Mikael entered and stopped abruptly, dumbfounded at the sight before him.

"Hello, old friend," Vilhelm said.

Mikael lunged at Vilhelm and was halted in his tracks by an outside force he didn't understand. He felt cold fingers wrapping tightly around his skull. If it were even possible, his face grew even more ashen as Vilhelm assaulted his mind from across the room.

Every memory since the night before his betrayal of Vilhelm was painfully ripped from his mind. Battles with rival bloodlines of vampires, angels, and a strange woman living on an island in a cathedral were sucked from him like he would suck blood from the throat of a human. Mikael tried to scream, but could make no sound. He flailed uncontrollably and yet didn't move. He felt himself slipping away, far, far away, and then there was nothing left except the void where Mikael should have been. Vilhelm filled that void with the loyalty he should have been owed by his dearest friend.

"I have missed you, Mikael. But I have to thank you. You taught me so much about the world and let me learn the truth. I have found a cure for a great illness that plagues every world in existence, Mikael. I have found the cure for betrayal."

"Indeed, my liege," Mikael responded automatically. Vilhelm smiled at how readily Mikael supported him.

"Come, my dear friend, let us begin our great work away from here and return triumphant."

"Of course, my liege."


	15. Chapter 15

Planar Chaos

Ignitions: Conflux

Jace Marthel felt the ground beneath him start to quake. The animals of Bant had been restless the last few days and made themselves scarce. Aven soldiers had increased their patrols of the skies. Everyone had felt the storm that was on the horizon. A darkness loomed, threatening to swallow Bant, but nobody could put their finger on what it was exactly. All anyone could do was prepare.

Preparation was something the denizens of Bant did well. The upper castes, the Blessed, Sighted, and Sigiled, directed the Mortar caste to begin fortifying their cities under the guidance of the Celebrant angels tasked with protecting all mortals of Bant. It was to this lower caste that Jace Marthel had belonged before winning the sigil of an angel named Nadia, elevating his caste. As a member of the sigiled, further great deeds were expected of him.

He'd only earned his first sigil yesterday. A strange beast had been rampaging through the town he inhabited on the outer edges of Bant and rather than run he stood firm, singlehandedly slaying the creature with an ax. By the time Nadia had arrived, the beast was dead and Jace Marthel was gravely wounded. Inside a house mere feet away were several families huddled in terror.

"You will not die today, hero," Nadia said softly, kneeling over the prone body of the newly christened hero. "Your soul will not join with meta-sigils and grant me a new sister. Be healed."

She laid her hands on his wounds, erasing them from his body. They might as well have never existed. Jace Marthel reached out to the divine being before him and she took his hand, pressing something into it. "I grant you my sigil," she whispered. She planted a kiss on his brow and rose to rejoin her sisters in their neverending battle to protect the order of Bant.

As he stared at the storm rolling ever closer, Jace Marthel gripped his precious sigil tightly in his hand. It might have been the edge of the world crumbling away and revealed the darkness beyond Bant's kingdoms, a darkness that not even the Court of Orderly Contemplation, the seven highest angels in existence, could stand against. The supreme angel Asha, who had been gone from Bant for thousands of years, might not even be able to protect the kingdoms now.

Jace Marthel set his brow in a look of determination. He was Sigiled now. He had to live up to what Nadia saw in him. No matter what dark forces came out of that storm, he would be ready. He hefted his ax and stood outside the gates of his town with the other Sigiled. The kingdom of Valeron would not fall. They hadn't fallen when Jhess sent in spies to aid in naval campaigns against the coastal kingdom. They hadn't crumbled under the pressure of the inner three kingdoms of Akrasa, Eos, and Topa.

"Ready for a real battle, Marthel?" One of the other Sigiled, a woman named Eledhara, elbowed Marthel in the ribs. She was decked out in sigils from a number of angels, some from entire flights. Jace Marthel thought he even saw one from the Amesha, the group of angels that represented the honor and justice of Bant. "You'll need something more than that ax, I reckon."

"I'll be fine." He glanced up at the sky to see Nadia leading a small group of angels as well as some Aven soldiers. A scout frantically flew up from the west, almost falling out of the air as it tried to catch its breath. Jace Marthel had never been particularly good at determining the gender of an Aven from a distance. He did, however, see Nadia's expression turn grim. He wondered what could possibly cause an angel to scowl so? It almost hurt him to see her beautiful face marred by a frown. Every being on Bant admitted the sublime beauty of the angels even if they typically were not attracted to humanoid women. Jace Marthel was no different.

As the storm rolled ever closer, he felt something strange in his chest. It was almost a tightness, but he wasn't afraid. Nadia was with him, how could he be? Electricity seemed to fill the air, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Did the other Sigiled feel this? Could he even tell?

Nadia floated down to stand beside him, slipping her hand into his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You have strengths, Jace Marthel, strengths that make you a special kind of hero. Use them." Her voice was barely above a whisper but it roared in his ears. He heard the blood pounding through his veins and every breath of every being standing around him. The only spot of silence was Nadia. She needed no breath, no blood, no protection from the darkness that crept closer and closer to the kingdom of Valeron.

Marthel saw something moving in the roiling storm. He counted five heads on serpentine necks. The creature was gargantuan, monstrous even. He'd never seen anything like it. The beast instinctively filled him with fear. It was something he couldn't comprehend, couldn't understand, and yet he also felt a strange sort of familiarity. There were aspects to that being on the horizon that resonated with Jace Marthel but he couldn't put a name to them. He couldn't even say whether he'd felt them before, he just knew they were there inside of him. This had to be the special strength to which Nadia referred.

He embraced it. He let the feelings fill his body from head to toe. His skin tingled and his muscles began to burn with the effort of holding himself in place. He felt something calling him away to a world far from Bant and far from the impending doom. All he could hear was Nadia's voice imploring him to use his gifts. Jace Marthel closed his eyes and let the voice carry him through time and space. Bant fell away around him and he tumbled head over heels through the void before landing on solid ground.

It was colder here. A light snow had just begun to fall. Jace Marthel found himself surrounded by animal skin tents and feral warriors wearing furs. They all were staring at him with confused expressions. One, a man with rippling muscles, long black hair, and a cloak made from a massive brown bear moved to the front and knelt by Jace Marthel.

"Who are you, and why are you here?"

"Where is here?" Marthel replied. His head had begun to pound and he raised a hand to the point on his scalp where the pulsing pain originated. It came away bloody.

"You are in the camp of the Temur. I am Surrak, Khan of this clan. Now, you will tell us who you are and why you are here or I will tear your limbs off."

"My name is Jace Marthel, and I really don't know why I'm here. I remember a storm, a battle was about to begin, and there was this creature with five heads. And an angel..."

"You would try to deceive me? You're a spy of the Sultai, aren't you? Or worse, from those scheming Jeskai sitting high and mighty on their mountain?"

"The who and the what now?"

"Surrak," a woman came forward wearing strange garments. Her hat was similar to a large bowl with sharpened teeth decorating the brim. They hung over her face and seemed to be from a different beast than the one supplying the curving tusks positioned atop the hat. "He tells the truth."

"What makes you certain, mystic?"

"We of the Rattleclaw understand the flow of Tarkir's mana better than most. The mana flowing around him is not of the other clans." The Rattleclaw Mystic knelt beside Jace Marthel and reached out a hand. "You have much to learn if you are to survive with us, Jace Marthel. But now you must rest."

"Thank you," he replied.

"That head wound will take some time to heal. Once you are well, we can teach you to hunt so you may feed the clan as the clan feeds you." The mystic helped him to his feet and led him towards a nearby tent. "I would have you tell me of the place you came from and of this being you called an angel. We don't have anything by that name here."

Marthel wondered if he should tell this woman about Nadia at all. He didn't know where he even was, but he knew it wasn't Bant. It was another world entirely. There were tales of a hero of Bant, Elspeth Tirel, who went away for extended periods of time. Nobody knew where. Some said she was looking for Asha in other worlds in order to bring the angelic queen home. Jace Marthel hadn't believed in those other worlds, but now he found himself in one. Perhaps these people didn't know that any other world existed. He resolved to keep his mouth shut for now.

"I'm not sure. I think it was just this injury making me say strange things."

"Perhaps. But your mana is undoubtedly different. You feel like a mixture between ourselves, the Jeskai, and the Abzan."

"I don't know," he insisted.

"Rest, then, Jace Marthel. Perhaps you will recall more when you are healed."


	16. Chapter 16

Planar Chaos

One Shots: War and Peace

Kyari landed in the middle of a field with her hydra, both breathing heavily. The relative cool of the air restored her lungs and the cleared her mind. Her study of Regathan Firecats had taken a sharp left turn, requiring her to make a rather hasty escape. She climbed on the back of her hydra in order to get a better view and figure out where exactly she had planeswalked them to.

A group of creatures flew overhead. They seemed to be gigantic moths outfitted with saddles and ridden by soldiers wearing a familiar type of armor. Kyari had been to this plane before, though not this exact spot. The last time she was here, she'd landed at Minamo and used the school as her base of operations for studying the denizens of Kamigawa, most notably the mystical Soratami and the elusive Orochi. The moonfolks' floating city had been much easier for her to enter than some of the other places she wanted to study. Her fourth and most recent attempt to enter Equilor had been thwarted yet again and she scowled at the memory. The Orochi had been the most welcoming, allowing her to stay with and study under their most powerful shamans. Their connectedness to the land and seasons made their use of mana unique as far as Kyari could tell.

A horse thundered towards her. Kyari cast a quick spell to shrink her hydra to a small enough size that it could rest on her shoulder. It wouldn't last forever, but hopefully long enough to escape if the need should arise. Kamigawa felt different to her. There was a strange smell in the air, almost like burning.

A man in armor that was distinctly not Kamigawan in origin dismounted and approached her. His shaggy hair was pulled back in a leather tie and he wore no helmet.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" He drew a sword and pointed it at Kyari and her hydra.

"Certainly not bothering you," Kyari replied. "I'm just continuing my studies."

"And on what plane do you expect me to believe that? You're a spy for the enemy, aren't you?" The man thrust his sword forward in an accusatory gesture.

"I would hope this one and all others, since it's the truth. I know nothing of the war on this plane." Kyari kept her face neutral and her stare firm. She learned one or two things from working with dangerous beasts, and it was a universal rule that eye contact was the key to dominance. Even if she was surprised by him mentioning other planes she couldn't let it show.

"The spirits go to war with the mortals. The world is being remade."

"Last time I was in this place, the spirits and the mortals lived in harmony."

"How long ago was that?"

"Quite some time."

Rinok's expression changed from one of guarded malice to curiosity. "A fellow walker," he said cheerfully. "I did not think I would find another so soon, and not on this plane."

Kyari was wary. Something about this man made her skin crawl, just like the burning smell carried over the plains. "My name is Kyari and yes, I am a traveler."

"This is excellent news. Long have I wanted a companion to ride into glorious battle with me that would remain during all my campaigns. I am Rinok, War's Herald."

"I'm more scholar than warrior."

"War requires the scholarly, for without them we cannot understand the enemy."

"I dislike fighting, Rinok, and avoid it as often as I can. I find it hard to conduct my studies if the plane is a battlefield."

"But would you not learn more if you saw the very nature of life in action? Conflict is the common thread of the multiverse. It propels all life forward and renews cycles. War is the only thing that can revitalize a dying plane. Look at Kamigawa. Do you not feel the very pulse of life on the air?"

"I smell sulfur and burning flesh." Kyari wrinkled her nose. "It makes me want to stop the fighting, to heal the land and the soldiers."

"You've never tasted the glory of victory, have you? Never felt the supreme satisfaction as your blade pierces the heart of an adversary?"

"No. I can't say that I have. I don't want to, either. I would rather have everyone survive. Senseless loss of life is something I work to prevent by my study. I want to understand the way the multiverse's creatures use mana to live and thrive." Kyari felt the spell on her hydra slipping and recast it. Sometimes the spells constructed by the Izzet of Ravnica had varying durations.

"I have decimated entire armies with a word, Kyari. The divine powers of angels heed my command and they follow me into battle."

"Than you don't understand the purpose of those divine powers. Or worse, you willingly misuse them and pervert their magic."

Drums began to beat in the distance. Rinok raised his face to the wind and inhaled the pungent scent of mortar fire and blood. It caused a tremor of delight to move through his body. Today he would be sprayed with the blood of gods, a feeling he had yet to experience. Rinok had slain beings that might have been called gods by the ignorant populace, but Kamigawa had true gods. Spirits lived in a world parallel to their mortal worshippers, completing a delicate balance that was being overthrown. A new age would spawn and Rinok was going to be there at the start, leading warriors into battle.

"It saddens me that we cannot see eye to eye," Rinok said. He spurred his horse forward. "I hope when we next meet you will be more inclined to see things my way."

As Rinok rode away Kyari muttered, "I hope our paths never cross again."


	17. Chapter 17

Planar Chaos

Ignitions: Death and Rebirth

"Hold still so I can kill you, boy!" the necromancer shouted, hurling a killing spell at Stephen. He was barely able to counter it. Neither had any way of knowing that somewhere above Dominaria a rift in time and a mage from Zhalfir would change the course of their destiny.

"How about no?" Stephen ducked as a freshly raised zombie tried to take a swing at his head. He didn't mind the smell as much as others did, but he still wasn't fond of it. Stephen raised his sword and hacked the zombie's arm off while regenerating some of his injuries. They'd been at this for at least half an hour. The necromancer had become more and more of a nuisance to his town, even going so far as to threaten the wizard's family. It was then that Stephen knew the time to deal with this threat to the peace had come.

"Yes!" The zombie's severed arm caught Stephen's ankle, causing him to tumble forward. He and the necromancer were now locked in close combat, all magic forgotten except what their desperate brains could remember.

It was at that moment that an event that would become known as the Mending was beginning to occur. Stephen was whisked away from the necromancer. As he fell through eternity he experienced a change in his body and mind. Magical possibilities beyond anything he'd been able to imagine were laid before him like a grand buffet at a feast. The sweet taste of incomprehensible power was the nectar of the gods. He understood the necromancer's fascination with manipulating life and death, but Stephen knew that he himself could now do it more successfully and on a grander scale with this new power.

He landed on what had once been a battlefield. Rotting corpses still wearing their armor of winged helmets and leather littered the ground. In the center there lay the carcass of a huge wurm. Stephen instinctively knew its name: Jormungandr, the god-killer. He decided that it would be his. He reached out with his new power and called the beast back to life, willing it to call him its master.

Stephen was successful. The wurm began to writhe and undulate. Its putrid flesh filled the air with the stench of death. Stephen didn't mind, though. His nose was swiftly growing accustomed to it. He bent down and wrenched a golden helmet from the skull of a fallen warrior, setting it on his own brow.

He staggered forward, feeling his power diminish in a matter of seconds. In that moment, the mending had occurred on Dominaria and planeswalkers everywhere would feel its effects. Gone were their godlike abilities, a loss Stephen felt keenly. He wanted more. He wanted that power he'd been granted and lost in an instant. It was rightfully his. The universe could not be so cruel as to grant him such a gift only to take it back before it was fully unwrapped.

Stephen resolved to find a way to regain that power. Until such a time as he discovered it, he would spend time molding this plane into his image. There were many places for him to visit, many worlds for him to see. They could easily provide him with the raw materials to build his kingdom, of that he was certain.

In his time on the plane, called Helheim, Stephen adopted the name Sverre. He also learned of Helheim's cyclical nature, not unlike that of Llorwyn-Shadowmoor. Every hundred years. the great battle Ragnarok tore through the world, preceded by the rebirth of gods and heroes. His wurm, Jormungandr, found itself immune to this cycle of death and rebirth, remaining loyal to its master. Eventually Sverre sought to regain his godlike powers by trapping those that were reborn on Helheim so he could consume their essences. It gave him unnatural long life and kept his body every young. Eventually he set up his home at the base of Helheim's world tree, Yggdrasil, now corrupted due to Sverre's meddling with the cycle of Helheim.

However, no matter how hard he tried he could not return to Dominaria. In his early days he had such a desire to visit old friends and his family, but as years stretched by on Helheim he lost those urges. Sverre became singularly obsessed with restoring planeswalkers to their former glory and was positive he would find the answers on Helheim. As time wore on and he was no closer to his goal, Sverre grew bitter. He refused to leave Helheim for any reason, believing that if he could not be a god of all worlds then he would be the god of this one. It was a poor substitute for the ecstasy-inducing power he'd felt before the Mending, but it would have to do.

Sverre put his quill down, rolling up the scroll that contained his life's story. He felt it was tragic and pathetic, but it was the truth. He was no closer to discovering the way to undo the Mending, or any other way to regain the power he lost before fully understanding it. Keeping the essences of cyclical gods in phylacteries only got one so far. Even though Helheim was now his plane, Sverre wanted more.

He put the scroll away and reclined on Jormungandr's rotting coils. The ground around Yggdrasil's roots seemed terribly barren. He resolved to raise up a small garden of saprolings and perhaps summon a zombie or two to liven up the place.

Glancing up from his garden, Sverre noticed a mage in a white traveling cloak walking towards his throne. No doubt Marthel had come back to persuade him to leave Helheim.

And why shouldn't he? After all, Sverre wasn't making any progress here. He might take Marthel up on the offer this time. Then again, the outside world was also filled with walkers who recalled a time before the Mending. Several of them preferred life the way it had been since that event, but Sverre could name a few who did not. They were particularly dangerous and would not want other walkers to exist if the Mending were undone in any way. They desired absolute power.

Sverre did want the power for himself, but he wanted it for other walkers as well. These young NeoWalkers did not know what they were missing. He would lead them into the unknown, guide and mold them in their new found power.

After all, with the death of the old always came rebirth. The rebirth of the true gods of the multiverse would come at Sverre's hands. It was his destiny, after all.


	18. Chapter 18

Planar Chaos

One Shots: What Was/Might Have Been

Rinok found Zurgo doing what Zurgo had done every day since he came of age in the Kolaghan. The large orc rang a bell to signal the beginning of a raid that he would not be included in. He had to ring the bell. It was his job in the clan. It wasn't a very fulfilling one either. Zurgo longed to join the raids. He wanted more out of life than just ringing bells. He felt he should be a leader, a strong warrior whom others looked up to and admired.

Rinok was just as disgusted with what Zurgo had become. Since his last visit to Tarkir, everything had undergone a radical change. He wasn't entirely sure how, but there was a large dragon planeswalker that wasn't Nicol Bolas but was just as old that he'd never heard of roaming the planes and the Khans had been replaced by dragonlords that should have been slain thousands of years ago. There hadn't been any dragons on Tarkir when Rinok last arrived. The Mardu, what had become the Kolaghan, raided other clans but they were a shadow of their former glory.

He spit on the ground at Zurgo's feet. The orc stared into Rinok's eyes with unbridled fury and raised the dulled sword he used to strike the bell as a weapon. Rinok caught Zurgo's forearm as it came down in the arc of the swing.

"I'm glad to see you have some of your fighting spirit left, Zurgo. I was beginning to think you'd grown soft."

"Do I know you?" Zurgo asked. His gravelly voice sounded out of place to Rinok. He'd grown accustomed to hearing it raised in a battlecry.

"You did, once. We were brothers in arms not so long ago in a Tarkir far different from this one."

"You speak in riddles," Zurgo grumbled. "How can there be another Tarkir?"

"There was. One without dragons. A thousand years ago they had all been slain, until something happened. I'm unsure of what, but you used to lead the Mardu, dashing into glorious battle with your weapons and voice raised in harmony with our brothers and sisters."

"Now you speak in lies," Zurgo barked. "There have always been dragonlords. For the last thousand years, we've lived under Kolaghan and her ilk."

"Do I? Tell me, Zurgo, don't you feel something stirring in your breast every time you strike that bell to signal a raid is about to begin? That warrior's spirit of yours still exists. It has not been quelled by whatever force has warped Tarkir into a place where warriors are the thralls of fat dragons." Rinok summoned Zurgo as he was, showing this Zurgo what he could have been.

The orc stared in awe at what he was certain was an illusion. It was his face, his form, but a head taller and swollen muscles that looked as if they could rip a young dragon in half without trying. He was clothed in well made armor, studded with spikes. His face was covered with battlescars.

"This is what I have become," the illusion Zurgo said, "a valorless bell ringer?"

The real Zurgo took a step back. "This cannot be real."

"Touch him," Rinok encouraged him. "Touch him and try to remember. You defeated the dragonlords once. Why not do it again? Return the Mardu to their former glory. I can help you be the orc you see before you again."

Zurgo reached out one hand and felt solid armor. The illusion was real. This was him. This was who he should be. The dreams he had every night of leading the clan into battle hadn't been dreams. This was his true destiny, his true calling. Zurgo was a warrior to the core, a leader and slayer of men.

He could easily kill a dragon, of that he was certain.

"We will need allies."

"Wait for me, Zurgo," Rinok said, dispelling the other Zurgo. "Wait for me to come back with an army and we will take Tarkir back from the dragonlords.

"I will."

That had been six months ago and still Rinok had not returned. Zurgo and his followers were growing impatient.

"We need to strike soon," one of them said. "Kolaghan grows suspicious of you, Zurgo."

"Kolaghan is easily distracted," he replied dismissively. Where was Rinok? There had been no sight of him in Tarkir since he left. No messages, either. Then again, the skies were patrolled by dragons. Getting a message to Zurgo might be too dangerous for Rinok to attempt, wherever he was. Could it be he was having trouble amassing support among the other clans? Nothing except overthrowing the dragonlords could unite the peoples of Tarkir. How could it be so hard?

"Not when there is a threat to her power," another member of his resistance said.

None of them were prepared for the volley of arrows that flew into the tent in which they were meeting. They especially weren't prepared for them to be followed so quickly by lightning spat from the mouths of Kolaghan's brood.

The dragonlord sat back on her haunches and was incredibly pleased with herself. Unlike her brothers and sisters, she dealt with threats both swiftly and without mercy. Perhaps one day she could rule all of Tarkir.

Vilhelm cursed from the shadows. The planeswalker Rinok had not been in the tent when Kolaghan gave the order. The warmonger was too much of a wildcard in Vilhelm's plans, too unpredictable for his vision to accommodate. He needed to be destroyed. They all did.


	19. Chapter 19

Planar Chaos

One Shots: One Distraction at a Time

Odom exited his room to find Ashleigh stretched out on his sofa like a dangerous cat. The female walker wore only a dressing gown, her hair pulled back in a red ribbon.

"I wondered when you were going to wake up. You sleep like the dead."

"Considering that if we hadn't left the Rakdos party you dragged me to last night when we did I would be dead, I think you might want to reconsider your phrasing."

"It's only fair. I sat through the Gruul party you took me to last time. It was fun and all but there's just something missing when you don't regularly dismember people."

"See I don't get that." Odom ran his fingers through his hair. "Especially when I'm the one up for dismemberment. I thought you liked me."

"I do. I want to share the things I like with the people I like. I like dismembering things."

"But why was I the thing about to be dismembered?"

"I wouldn't have actually let them do it," she said indignantly.

"Sure."

"You sound like you don't believe me."

"Let's just say that after the incident with the eldrazi in my basement, I'm a little skeptical." Odom had done his best to keep Ashleigh occupied with things that wouldn't result in the destruction of the multiverse. Sometimes, though, her casual telepathy caught him off guard enough that he couldn't throw up the mental blocks necessary to stop her from "borrowing" certain spells or summons. He'd had no idea how long the small drone had been in his basement, and frankly didn't want to know what she'd been feeding it. All he knew was that it needed to be scoured from existence.

"Squidly was harmless."

"No, he wasn't." Odom was just happy she hadn't thought to pick his brain for spells that originated on New Phyrexia. That was a disaster waiting to happen.

"So, I got bored while you were asleep and found a thing last night."

His blood ran cold. This was it. This was the way the world ended and it was his fault. Odom had to think fast.

"Do you think you could help me with an experiment I'm working on?"

"Ooh!" Ashleigh sat up. "What kind of experiment?"

"The Izzet are working on creating our own life form. We're leaning towards calling it a weird. We need an accomplished electromancer to help make it a reality."

"Sounds like fun." Sparks crackled around her fingers. "I don't get to play with lightning enough."

"It's going to be sweet, that's for sure."

"Okay. I'll do the experiment with you." She pulled him onto the couch with her and kissed him on the cheek. "Only because you're cute, though."

"Sometimes I wonder what's wrong with me."

"And what is wrong with you?"

"Well, you're insane and have a never ending desire to end all life everywhere. Any time you come over I typically almost die. And yet I still allow this... whatever this is to continue."

"Well your life would be boring without me, wouldn't it?"

"That's just it. It wouldn't."

"Then you actually like me."

Odom had a gnawing feeling that it was more than that. If he could keep Ashleigh occupied, then for one more day the multiverse could continue and he could do more spell research. He was saving the world, one distraction at a time.


	20. Chapter 20

Planar Chaos

Ignitions: Scholar's Mind, Beastmaster's Heart

Today was the day. Kyari stood on the edge of the Kalonian wilds, a very different home from her home in Eloren. The Shandalaran elf suppressed a squeal of excitement. She had received permission from the elders to study the beasts living in Kalonia. It was their hope that the young woman could use the knowledge she gained to help in their eternal struggle against the slivers that hunted there. She took her first step and felt the change in the flow of the plane's mana. Kalonia was wild, free, and untouched by the hands of mages. This was uncommon on Shandalar. Most beings could use mana in some form to cast spells due to the mana rich nature of the world. It was Kyari's hope to discover how.

It had been three days and she'd seen nothing. Kyari resolved to begin work on a treehouse, not unlike the ones in the Eloren wilds, but much smaller. After all, she would be living alone out here. She had amassed a sizable pile of branches to begin constructing the roof when she heard a cracking noise to her left. Something was coming this way, something big.

Five heads snaked through the bushes. A baby hydra with a body the size of a fully grown deer crashed through the underbrush and barreled into Kyari. It was swiftly followed by a pack of predatory slivers. The eerie silence with which they hunted unnerved Kyari. Slivers didn't need to communicate with calls. Their hivemind took care of that for them. It made the invasive species both silent and deadly.

The slivers began to circle Kyari and the baby hydra. She instinctively wrapped her arms around one of its necks as its five heads were hidden against her body. One sliver appeared to be the pack's leader. It was larger than the others, with bright red eyes. It stared Kyari down, but she stood firm. She began to draw mana from the forest around her in order to cast a spell, any spell, that would make the slivers go away.

The lead sliver lunged. Kyari shut her eyes and tried to cast the spell, but the sliver was gone. She no longer heard the noises of the forest. Instead her ears were assaulted with a metallic grinding. Kyari opened her eyes to see a dark world of fire, death, and metal. The lifeless bodies of creatures that resembled steel chickens lay scattered in pieces at her feet and all around her the squeal of metal on metal ravaged the air. The baby hydra began to make a noise that resembled a whimper, only it was repeated out of all five heads.

This wasn't anywhere Kyari had been before. Her first thought was that this might be a sliver hive, but the steel chickens were unlike anything Kyari had seen before in her lifetime. The baby hydra continued to make its distressed whining noise, trying harder to hide its faces from the terrifying new world around it.

She was almost certain she wasn't on Shandalar anymore. She didn't know where she was, but not even the inside of a sliver hive could look like this.

Kyari knew she needed to go back. She just wasn't sure how. She closed her eyes tightly and begged whatever strange magic had brought her here to send her home.

"Let me go back. Please please let me go back. I want to go home. Take us home."

She reached inside of herself to where a new magic fluttered to life. This would take her home, she was certain. She cast it out, feeling around for home. As soon as she found Shandalar again she locked onto it and let her new magic pull her and the hydra back.

They landed in a different part of the Kalonian wilds. Kyari spent several hours calming the baby hydra before turning back towards her half-completed treehouse. The beast refused to leave her side, following her all the way home.

"I'm going to have to name you sometime," Kyari said to it. "I can't just keep calling you 'baby' or 'hydra'."


	21. Chapter 21

Planar Chaos

Chapter Seven: Challenge Accepted

Marthel could always find Brock, of that he was certain. He didn't know why he hadn't gone and found his best friend in the Multiverse sooner. He at least tended to stay in one place working on his meditation. Its importance had been instilled in the walker from a young age during his upbringing with the Soratami of Kamigawa and he'd continued it during his time with the Ojutai of Tarkir after his spark ignited.

Brock had created his own meditation realm. It was nowhere near as sophisticated as that of Nicol Bolas and mostly made up of empty space, but there were some creature comforts if they could be termed such. Brock sat in the lotus position on a small rock at the center of a constantly rippling pond. The water dripped over the edges and curved back into the surface. His yellow and blue robes billowed in a gentle breeze from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Marthel said, breaking Brock's concentration. The breeze stopped and the water ceased to ripple. In its stillness Marthel could see some fish swimming serenely in the globe of water. "You should have seen what Kyari did to me when I found her. She sent that damned hydra of hers after me. With wings!"

"You never did know how to knock, Marthel," Brock said. He stood to make room for his friend on the floating rock. Marthel's magic and nature made him impossible to predict, which gave him a pass through the shield of the meditation plane. "Not everybody appreciates that about you."

"Well Ashleigh also tried to burn me to death."

Brock scowled at the mention of the Voidcaller. "What were you doing with her?"

"Inviting her to a party, the same one I'm inviting you to right now."

Brock sighed. "The Voidcaller is bad news wherever she goes. She's impulsive, has no respect for life, and I worry about her influence over Odom. Kyari tells me his expeditions are becoming more questionable. Apparently he set fire to a sliver hive on Shandalar in the hopes that they would survive and adapt."

"Eh. I think we'll be fine. Besides, whatever he is up to has captured her interest enough to keep her from destroying a plane to 'bask in the glory of emptiness' or something."

"She could just create her own and bask in that."

"I think she has a problem with the whole creation process." Marthel shrugged. "Are you coming or not? I'm hosting it on Ravnica. If you're so concerned about them you can check up on them while we're there. Also I'm inviting some walkers you haven't met yet. Plenty of new people for you to test yourself against."

Brock's attention was now fully captured. "What kinds of walkers?"

"I met a new one just a few weeks ago. She calls herself the Envoy of Dragonfire and is a cousin of mine."

"That's highly unlikely," Brock said. "Having a spark is rare. Having it ignite is even rarer."

"She's a daughter of Dromoka," Marthel explained. "I'm sure you've met my own mother, Atarka."

"I know of both your mothers, if you could really call Atarka such a thing, and honestly prefer the company of my Master. He at least would not interrupt a monk's meditation hour."

"I suppose not," Marthel said. "However, you haven't answered my question. Will you come?"

"It seems like fun. I have yet to test the power of this Envoy of Dragonfire. Are there others?"

"Yes. Rinok, War's Herald and Sverre, Grave Birther."

"I think I've heard of Rinok," Brock said. "Kyari met him once. She distinctly recalled not liking him. Something about eternal war or some such nonsense. I'll have to see if he's as much of a threat as she thinks he is."

"Don't give me that," Marthel said playfully. "You just like testing yourself against people who use black mana."

"If I'm to keep improving, I must hone my skills against all that is dark. Know thy enemy, Marthel. Wasn't it you who taught me that?"

"I did, but what I meant was try to understand the world from a different perspective. Try to think like your enemy. For instance, if you are going to do combat with Ashleigh, what would you do?"

"She's almost my polar opposite, but we share the same weakness to dealing with summoned creatures. I would use that to my advantage."

"Or you could just show her something shiny and watch her run after it like a hungry Skrill. Never fight in the first place. Use that instability and capriciousness to your advantage."

"I suppose I see your point. Alright then, my friend, how would you deal with Kyari in a fight? Or prevent one in the first place?"

"I would likely get along well with Kyari if she gave me a chance. I too am fascinated by the multiverse and long to know about the walkers of old. We would likely find a way to visit Dominaria together and I could see Urza's workshop with all his notes and she could research the various creatures that live there. The Song of Dominia is the center of the world, but it is off limits to us." Marthel hung his head. The mood passed quickly. "Oh well. I'm happy you'll be joining us, Brock."

"You and Kyari would never need to fight, Marthel, because she isn't an omnicidal maniac."

"I can tell you won't like Rinok or Sverre much either." Marthel shrugged. "I suppose that'll just have to be how it goes. You know, I'm surprised that even after being raised by the Soratami and finishing your studies with the Ojutai you're still actively seeking out threats."

"It's an immutable part of my human nature, something that I always felt lesser for as a child. But now I see that nature for what it is, my greatest strength."

"So… You'll accept my challenge of just having fun for once?"

"Yes, old friend, I do accept this challenge."


	22. Chapter 22

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Black and White

Brock was breathing heavily. His opponent, a woman wearing what was honestly a very impractical dress, readied another spell to fling at him. Her assault this far had been merciless and it had taken all of his concentration not to lose his footing on the slick, giant leaves they found themselves fighting on. He hadn't thought his visit to Pyrulea in search of Kyari would wind up this way.

Brock countered the spell easily and saw the woman's look of triumph turn into a childish pout. This was his window of opportunity. He flung two copies of the same burning spell at her, catching her square in the chest. It was her turn to stagger and fall. Brock rose back to his full height. The creatures he had summoned were returned to their home planes. Pyrulea would be safe for now.

"Why this world?" He gestured around him to the plane of Pyrulea curving around its sun. "What is your reasoning for choosing this plane to destroy?"

"It's by far the easiest," she was gasping for breath. "Everything is contained inside. I can even snuff out the sun without overexerting myself."

"But why do you feel the need to destroy?" Brock knew his answer. This woman was insane. She was a threat to all of the planes because of it.

"Because… Because..." Perhaps Brock had hurled too much fire. "I don't know. It's just what I have to do. I need for everything to stop. For everyone to be quiet and to just sit alone until it's over."

"The multiverse is a gift that only we can appreciate," Brock cried. He threw his arms wide to indicated the canopy of Pyrulea. "And you want to ruin it."

"No. I want to improve it. To make it better."

"You want to end it." Brock strode forward until he was towering over her. "So I will end you." Brock's hands ignited into twin balls of flame. He was ready to rain divine fury from the heavens, but the poor wretch in front of him decided to take that moment to look up with large, tear-filled eyes. A wave of mercy overtook him and the fires began to die. The ascetic Ojutai were not quick to anger, nor were the Soratami that raised him. They took time to understand their adversaries before engaging them. What did Brock know about the woman in front of him? He had failed both of his Masters by being so reckless and unforgiving. He had proven nothing by beating her this way, least of all to himself.

Brock reached down a hand and helped the woman off of the ground. "The multiverse is a gift, but it is not one I will deprive you of. Especially when we both have so much to learn from it. My name is Brock, there are those who call me Heaven's Halberd."

"Ashleigh, the Voidcaller."

Her grip on his hand tightened and Brock found himself flung off of the leaf and falling down, or was it up, into the forest floor. He summoned a large bird, big enough for him to ride on, and let it carry him back up into Pyrulea's sky. The shimmering sun dazzled his eyes momentarily. He scanned the leaves below, but the Voidcaller was nowhere to be seen.

"Blast," Brock cursed. He flew on, continuing his search for Kyari but keeping an eye over his shoulder for a possible sneak attack from the Voidcaller.


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: I've revised this chapter to reflect some new information from WOTC about the fate of Kamigawa after the Kami War depicted in the original storyline for the block, which was resolved eons before the block surrounding it even started in the overall inter-planar timelines.**

Planar Chaos

Ignitions: Broken Mirror

From a young age, Brock knew he was different from the other children living in the Oboro Palace in the floating city of Ottawara. It wasn't just that his skin and hair weren't the milky white of the Soratami. He was different in that he was more prone to reaction. He had what they sometimes disparagingly referred to as a human nature.

Brock was in fact human. He'd been found abandoned as an orphan by a member of the Soratami and they had brought the starving child back to Ottawara high above Kamigawa and away from the strife below. Things were changing in the world below once again. The moonfolk needed to stay in their floating cities and keep themselves safe. That meant keeping Brock safe as well. He'd been living as a member of the Soratami ever since he could remember, but the fact that he was a foundling was never kept from him.

One evening was a cause for celebration. Tamiyo had returned from another of her long journeys and gathered the older children around to hear the stories she'd collected along the way. Brock sat wide-eyed and open-mouthed with his peers, completely in awe of the magical tales unfolding on Tamiyo's many scrolls.

That night she told them a story about a wizard who could fall through time before closing the hole through which he fell, sacrificing his powers in order to save his family and his world.

"The lesson from this story," Tamiyo said before sending the children to bed, "is that even though we may gain great power, putting the world in danger can never be worth what that power might bring us."

The Soratami children went straight to bed, but Brock stayed up for an extra meditation hour, something Tamiyo had suggested in order to help him master his human nature. At fourteen, Brock was having difficulties containing himself and meditation hour didn't make that easier. He didn't want to be sitting still and often fidgeted.

Sometimes, like tonight, he fell asleep with his back against the wall.

In his dream, he ran through the hallways of the Oboro Palace with the Soratami, frantically seeking an intruder who was making off with Meloku's pearl. Brock had heard the story many times. The theft of the pearl was one of the seminal events that began the great Kami War according to their tales. The humans below then foolishly stole a piece of the supreme kami O-Kagachi and trapped it in stone.

Brock rounded a corner and came face to face with Kiki-Jiki. The akki appeared just as Brock had seen in tapestries hanging throughout the palace, tapestries that were mysteriously absent in his dream. The akki smiled slyly, white teeth appearing like a crack in his red, bumpy skin, and conjured a duplicate of Brock holding Meloku's pearl. They were exactly identical down to the stubble on Brock's shaved head, only the illusion Brock's face was twisted into a wicked expression.

Brock felt something flare to life inside of him. It was something that he constantly tried to suppress. His human nature filled him with rage. How dare this intruder try to frame Brock for his crime? In a burst of anger he destroyed the illusion. The explosive spell hurled Kiki-Jiki down the hallway. Brock watched the akki scramble up and bolt in a new direction.

This was a strange power, something the Soratami didn't understand and could not control. Brock let it fill his being, feeling his heart and breath quicken. Electricity and fire seemed to pour through his veins and fill his stomach with a terrifying yet comforting warmth. His hair stood on end, and every muscle seemed to contract. The walls of the palace were incredibly vivid. Had he really never noticed the intricacy of the tapestries before? Where were the screams and the hustle and bustle of people searching for the intruder? Those sounds were there, but Brock seemed to float past them. He was on a completely different level of existence. Perhaps this was the magic of the mirrors that the Soratami used in their divinations.

The last thing Brock heard was the sound of shattering glass.

He awoke on a mountainside. A pair of human monks were crouching over him, one pressing a cold compress to his head.

"You're awake!" the woman said. She turned to the man. "We need to bring him to Ojutai."

"Oju...tai?"

"He's our dragonlord," the man explained. He turned back to the woman. "I'm not sure Taigam would allow it."

"Narset would want us to bring him to Ojutai."

"Who are you more scared of, Taigam or Narset?"

"Is there really a contest there?" He glanced over his shoulder in anticipation of Ojutai's star pupils standing behind him. He was personally more afraid of Taigam. Unlike Narset, Taigam was ruthless and made sure to get his way.

"I see your point. That said, we should still at least tell Ojutai about him."

"Fine." The man turned back to Brock. "Stay here. We'll come back."

The monks leapt away across the craggy mountain. Brock could see a monastery perched on a peak in the distance. Overhead, large creatures with feathered wings and serpentine tails wheeled in the sky, weaving in and out of the clouds. Brock had never seen such beings before. Their long necks were topped with graceful heads and more feathers in long, trailing crests.

The pair of monks returned. Brock was struck by their resemblance to one another. Perhaps they were siblings, possibly twins.

"Come on," the woman said. "We're going to take you back so you can rest in the infirmary."

"Can you tell me what those are?" Brock pointed up at the strange beings flying in the sky.

"Those are the dragons," the man laughed. "They don't talk to us much. Only Master Ojutai spends time with the humanoid students."

"They don't look like any dragons I've ever seen."

"Well, all the dragon broods look different. The Silumgar have snakelike heads and fangs. Dromoka's brood has sand colored scales and thick armor. The Atarka sport antlers and the Kolaghan have four wings and intricate crests," the woman explained. "Ojutai's brood have feathers and breathe ice."

"The dragons where I'm from don't even have wings, but there are five. Yosei, Keiga, Ryusei, Kokusho, and Jugan are their names," Brock said as the twins helped him back to the monastery. They leaped over the rocks carrying him between them with surprising ease.

"That sounds like one of Master Narset's dream worlds," the woman said. "She has visions while she meditates sometimes and likes to share them with people. Mostly they're just thought of as flights of fancy but Master Ojutai takes a particular interest in them."

"When do I get to see Master Ojutai?" Brock asked as they touched down outside the door of the monastery.

"Well," the woman began. The door opened as the man finished for her. "Taigam intercepted us and said that Ojutai doesn't need to see you."

"Taigam is a fool," Narset strode out of the door, robes billowing around her in the mountain breeze. "I need you to come with me." She grabbed Brock's wrist and dragged him away to her meditation chamber, a cavern deep in the catacombs beneath the monastery. From a high up window Taigam watched and waited.

"I know what you are."

Brock found himself speechless.

"You're like me, aren't you? And like Ugin? A planeswalker?"

"A what?"

"You're not from this world. You came from somewhere else. You can travel to other planes."

"What are you saying? There are more? And I'm where?"

"This is Tarkir. Of course there are more. There are more worlds than stars in the sky. Planeswalkers can move between them. Ugin is the soul of this world, a powerful dragon planeswalker. One day I'm going to find him. But first there are some mysteries here I need to unravel. Mysteries that Taigam would rather I not delve into. He means to expose me to Ojutai. Can I count on you, as a fellow planeswalker?"

"I, uh, I guess so. But what does being a planeswalker even mean?"

"You'll come to appreciate this gift we've been given, Brock. It means we can do many things and it also means we have a responsibility to the worlds we live in."

"How do you know my name?"

"I know many things about you. I've seen visions of many worlds and many people while I meditate. Some have happened, others are happening, and others have yet to happen. In your future I see a woman with pointed ears and a love of creatures, and an unpredictable ally who will be your best friend." Narset smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. We'll make sure you get to see Ojutai. I know he'll want to see you once I tell him you're like me. For now you can stay and study with us until you feel the need to move on."

"They might worry about me, though," Brock protested.

"Who is 'they'?"

"The Soratami. They raised me since I was young, and I'm afraid they might worry if they wake up and I'm missing." Brock started to doubt his words as soon as he'd said them. Would the Soratami really miss him? He was the only human living in the entirety of Ottawara, a fact they had never once let him forget.

"It's up to you. You have the power to move on whenever you see fit," Narset said to the young boy. Her voice took on an almost maternal aspect. Children had never been a part of her plans for life. Dedicating her life to her students could only provide so much, but here was a young planeswalker who had only begun to explore the secrets that the wider worlds had to offer. She hoped he would stay, if only to satisfy her selfish desire for a pupil with whom she could share her discoveries.

Brock looked down at his feet. "I think I'll stay for a while."


	24. Chapter 24

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Date with Destiny

Kyari and her hydra crashed through the dense undergrowth of Muraganda, a large reptilian beast hot on their trail. She couldn't put a name to the creature but had once heard Odom refer to them as 'dinosaurs'. It seemed more appropriate and certainly shorter than giant terrifying lizard beast. The elves of this plane had warned her about the dinosaurs as well as an entity called the Mimeoplasm that consumed anything in its path and took on the traits of its meal. It was part of some great cycle of life according to the elves, taking the dead and reviving them in a strange way. Kyari had yet to see the entity and had been following a trail of slime when the dinosaur decided she and her hydra would make a good lunch.

The baby hydra had grown quickly, doubling in size since she first found it in only a few weeks. It had only kept growing at its alarming rate. Nobody on Shandalar had ever seen a fully grown Primordial Hydra and Kyari had no idea when it would stop, or at least level off.

They fell into a clearing filled with various piles of food, broad leaves and meat lay scattered in the center and Kyari could sense that they were not alone. She scanned the edges and picked out several hunters, both Saurid and elven, waiting patiently. She saw one take aim at her hydra and threw herself in front of the arrow. It stopped in midair a few feet away and fell to the ground after hitting some sort of shimmering barrier. Kyari was familiar with the spell, but she didn't think she'd cast it.

"There's a bigger one behind us," Kyari shouted, pulling her hydra forward through the clearing.

As if on cue, the massive carnivorous dinosaur burst out of the trees. Arrows started flying, narrowly missing Kyari and the hydra. It attempted to do what it had done as a baby and hide its faces against Kyari's body.

"No," she said, "you're too big to do that now." She pulled harder on one of its heads, just barely able to fit her arms around the end of its nose. She would have invested in a harness or leash if it didn't keep outgrowing them.

Kyari didn't know that she was being watched intently by a bald man in blue and yellow robes. He too had come to study the Mimeoplasm in hopes of determining whether or not it would become a threat to this plane or any others. Brock had left the Ojutai shortly after Narset's banishment. He was of the opinion that Taigam's treatment of the other Master was done without Master Ojutai's approval. It also wasn't fair. The Ojutai sought knowledge wherever they could. It was part of the way, to seek knowledge and enlightenment. Ojutai had personally told Brock on many occasions to never stop learning because the day he did he would find himself the worse for it. Brock had wanted to do more with his knowledge, though, and his feelings about the injustice of Master Narset's banishment gave him direction. Brock resolved a long time ago to travel the multiverse when he had learned all Ojutai could teach him and he would use those teachings to protect this wonderful gift planeswalkers had been given.

He'd been reminded of Master Narset when the woman fell into the clearing, closely followed by a large, many headed beast. What caught his attention was that her clothing was not made from the skin of the reptilian beasts who lived on Muraganda, but woven cloth. Her animal companion was also like nothing he had ever seen. She was out of place on this plane, meaning she had to be a planeswalker. When she threw herself in front of an arrow streaking toward her beast, Brock caught a glimpse of her pointed ears and threw a spell out to protect them. The arrow struck his barrier and immediately caused it to dissipate before it could fully form.

She was still struggling to get the beast to move. Brock needed to get them out of the cloud of arrows so he could actually speak to the elven woman. Without thinking, he cast another spell to take control of the beast and urged it forward. One of its heads dipped under the woman to pick her up. She deftly slid down its neck and settled at its shoulders, masking her confusion as best she could. The beast carried her out of the clearing and away from the larger reptile that would either feed many people or feed more of its kind.

Once she was out of danger, the spell ended. The hydra returned to its normal self and Kyari hopped down from its back. She knew for a fact she hadn't cast that spell. The barrier was something she might have done out of desperation, but the sudden change in her hydra's demeanor was the result of some outside force. She needed to think of a way to keep others from meddling with her baby.

Someone dropped down from the trees. He was dressed in blue and yellow robes and had a completely shaved head, something Brock had kept up after his time living with the Soratami. They hadn't known how to deal with the unruliness of human hair.

"I'm sorry about that," he said. "They would have hit you for sure if I hadn't borrowed your creature."

"Borrowed?" Kyari asked, taken aback. Who borrowed someone else's companion? Moreover, who would control other creatures at all?

"I didn't want you to get hurt and it seemed like it wasn't going to move without help." He seemed almost sheepish about it.

"Thanks, but never do that again."

"I won't," he promised, holding up both his hands. He then extended one for a greeting. "My name is Brock, by the way."

"Kyari Alexiona." She shook his hand.

"What is that remarkable beast, if I may ask?" He extended a hand toward the hydra, who was being abnormally inquisitive about this new person. Kyari didn't seem frightened, so the hydra's primitive reasoning told it that it shouldn't be either.

"It's called a hydra."

"They're not native to Muraganda, are they?"

"I haven't seen any since I got here."

"So you are a planeswalker. I thought as much." Brock suddenly adopted an expression of deep thought. He muttered to himself, "I wonder if Master knew that."

"Master knew what?"

"Oh!" Brock passed a hand over his bare scalp, a habit he'd had as a child and never been able to break himself of. "A long time ago one of my Masters told me something about meeting a woman with pointed ears. She was incredibly attuned to the multiverse as a whole and had visions ever since she was a child. She told me a few snippets about my future when I first met her."

"You had a master?" Kyari was confused. Was this why he knew controlling magic?

"Well, not the kind of master you're thinking of. Master Narset and Master Ojutai were my teachers. They had mastered our people's teachings and were tasked with teaching the next generation."

"Ah." Kyari smiled. "That makes sense. Sort of like the Abbot of Keral Keep on Mount Keralia is tasked with continuing their study of pyromancy and teaching new initiates."

"Yes, something like that." Brock made a mental note to visit this Keral Keep later in his travels.

"I see what you're thinking," Kyari said. "If you travel to the plane of Regatha, be careful. I've been twice before to study the creatures as well as how the pyromancers use the power of the mountain to fuel their powers. It usually ends in some sort of explosion causing me to have to leave quickly. I really need to discover a way to make both myself and my hydra immune to damage. Or at least to fire."

"It'd be worth the risk, according to Master Narset," Brock said. "Master Ojutai would encourage me as well. However, he's more inclined to seek knowledge for the sake of knowledge. I'd rather use my power to protect the multiverse from threats so that planeswalkers like us can continue to experience it. Speaking of, you haven't seen a large, green ooze around here have you?"

"The Mimeoplasm? I was tracking it when that dinosaur attacked us."

"Dinosaur?"

"I have a colleague who sometimes helps me with my studies of other planes. It's his term."

"It seems to fit them."

"I don't know how old that trail I was following was, but we can find it again rather easily. We'll just have to fly over the landscape to find it again." Kyari had quickly decided that Brock was not a threat. In fact, he seemed like someone she could get along with very well. His interest in preserving the multiverse could be beneficial to her studies of its creatures. It would certainly be good to have an ally like him when there were people like Rinok roaming the planes.

"Fly?"

"On the hydra." Kyari climbed onto the hydra's back and patted a spot behind her.

"How are you going to make it fly?"

"A spell a friend of mine taught me. He frequently deals with angels."

The description sounded familiar to Brock. Marthel was the only planeswalker he had met who engaged with angels regularly. "Is this friend incredibly unpredictable and does he call himself the Maelstrom Mage?"

"So you've met Marthel?" Kyari reached her hand down to help Brock onto her hydra's back.

"I have." Brock grunted as he hoisted himself up. The hydra was surprisingly soft. Rather than sitting behind Kyari, he mimicked her position behind one of its necks. He was required to awkwardly hike up his robes to sit comfortably.

"You're no doubt familiar with this spell." Large angel wings sprouted from the hydra's back and it ascended into the air. "I think we were a little ways southwest of here when the dinosaur attacked." Kyari nudged her hydra's neck and it turned back the way they had come.


	25. Chapter 25

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Return to Alara

Marthel touched down in the kingdom of Valeron to find it much changed. The once grand cities were scorched and stained with ash. What had happened to Bant, and where were the angels? Marthel ducked behind a wall as a band of brigands raced through the city street. He'd laid the cobblestones for this street when he was a boy.

A roar split the sky. A huge dragon soared overhead, scorching the trees outside the city's walls. A lone angel flew up to face the beast. Marthel held his breath as the dragon let out another roar and snapped its jaws around the angel. Her wings hung out of its mouth on either side and they fell away, plummeting to the earth below. He thought he was going to be sick. The dragon, which shouldn't be here, had just eaten an angel whole. It destroyed something that was sacred. Marthel closed his eyes, but the sight replayed in his mind's eye.

His eyes snapped open and his nostrils flared as a flurry of feathers gently floated down around him. The dragon would die in the most painful way Marthel could imagine. He fixed on it and hurled a spell filled with rage and hatred, suffering the only thing on his mind. The dragon began to falter in the air, tumbling from the sky as its heart exploded in its chest and its skin burst into flame.

A cool touch brought him out of tunnel vision. A soft, white hand rested on his outstretched, shaking arm and brought it back down to his side. A familiar voice whispered in his ear, "Stay your anger, Jace Marthel. The deed is done."

Nadia embraced her chosen hero, stroking his hair as a mother would for a distressed child. "It's been a long time. Many things on Bant have changed."

"But what caused this?" Marthel demanded, breaking away from the angel. "Was is Jhessian pirates? Did the inner kingdoms destroy Valeron? Or is this the work of that fell storm?"

"The storm that you disappeared in swept over Bant, bringing with it creatures from other worlds. Our world expanded, but also shrank. Bant as you knew it is lost forever, Jace Marthel. I have gained and lost many sisters since your sudden departure."

"I should have been here," Marthel said bitterly. "I just didn't know how to come back."

"You have returned now and that is what matters." Nadia looked up to the sky. "Bant will live on in you."

It was then that Marthel had an idea. "Nadia, you could come with me. I could bring you with me to the other worlds I've visited. Then Bant could live on in both of us."

"My place is here with my sisters protecting the mortals from these new threats. Undead monstrosities roam this land. How can I abandon the people to such a fate?"

"We could do so much more together, out in a larger world. Nadia," Marthel brought her face close to his, willing her to see his memories since he'd left Bant, "please come with me. There are worlds out there that need you more than Bant does. Worlds that can be saved."

"I understand." Nadia closed her eyes. She did not see what Marthel meant about worlds needing to be saved, but rather saw that he needed a companion. A constant friend to pull him back to the light when darkness threatened to consume his soul. "Very well. I will accompany you."

"First, though, I want to see what's happened to Bant. I want to see what you meant by it's expanded."

Nadia led him out into the streets of the city, exiting it through the main gate and walking in a vague southeastern direction. "The events that created the storm we saw before your disappearance became known as the Conflux. Five worlds collided in a storm of magic called the Maelstrom. Beings from those five worlds began to intermingle and strange magics flowed between their borders. Bant was overrun. We held out as long as we could, but in the end we failed. All five kingdoms have succumbed to the same fate you see before you."

Marthel bit back tears. "I want to see."

"I can show you."

They kept walking towards the direction from which the storms had come. Few creatures bothered them. On the horizon Marthel saw something that seemed to glow from within. The light wavered as the creature creating it lumbered forward. Marthel stopped and waited for the creature to come to him.

As it drew closer, he could see someone sitting on its back. The person appeared vaguely human and seemed to direct the giant elemental. It had to be at least fifteen feet tall at its shoulder and strode with a low, long, and incredibly smooth gait. Its legs and feet appeared to be living wood wrapped in vines and coming to points where they touched the scorched earth. A molten center gave off the strange, wavering yellow light and now Marthel could see a glowing cloud of blue enveloping the creature's head. It was in this cloud that the person sat. From what Marthel could tell at least one of his arms matched the limbs of his elemental mount.

"You know it's not safe out in the open, right? Something just wrecked a dragon's face after it ate an angel," the person said. Marthel got the distinct feeling that this man's face wasn't quite right. He was also uncertain as to whether the stranger's hair was the same color before Marthel blinked.

"That would have been me," Marthel said darkly.

"Wow." The stranger signaled for the elemental to take a step back and kneel down like a large crab. Marthel watched as he slid down its back and onto the ground, landing with a soft thud. His body seemed to ripple with a shockwave. "Then maybe I should be careful."

"Maybe you should," Marthel said. He then turned his attention to the elemental. "Also, what in the name of the five layers of New Phyrexia is that thing?"

"Oh," the stranger looked up at the elemental. "I call him the Maelstrom Wanderer. I found him during the Conflux. Or I should say he found me. It's kind of neat. I just ride on his back and nobody bothers us."

"Surprising since there are things like that roaming the skies," Marthel looked up to see a large dragon that had been infused with a kind of metal flying lazily overhead.

"Oh yeah. Etherium dragons are a thing now. Personally I think they're neat, nothing spectacular. But then I never was one for artifice in any form. Last time I tried I exploded several square city blocks." Marthel looked back at the stranger to see he had manifested another arm and was using it to scratch his head while his other hands were occupied searching the pockets of his blue and red robes.

"How are you doing that?" Marthel's curiosity got the better of him and he reached out to grab the extra arm only for it to melt away in his hand.

"I was mostly in pieces when I wound up in the Maelstrom. I guess it put me back together with a few improvements. I take it you aren't from around here."

"Formerly of Bant, haven't been back in some time."

"Planeswalker?"

"What?"

"You're a planeswalker. I could tell pretty easily. Not just anyone can take down a fully grown dragon with that kind of power." The stranger found the object he was looking for, a small pendant decorated with a stylized tree in blue and green. Marthel had seen that symbol before during his travels in Ravnica and recognized it as the Simic Guild signet.

"I suppose you're one too?" Marthel readied a defensive spell just in case. He'd met walkers he could do nothing but fight with before. The battles could get incredibly nasty. Sensing his tension, Nadia drew her own weapon. A low rumble from Maelstrom Wanderer caused both of them to take a step back.

"You see, Maelstrom doesn't like fighting much. In fact, he and I would prefer to go on our merry way and just leave you to whatever it was you're doing." The stranger sighed. "And here I thought we could be friends. I haven't met many others like us. One of my friends is a real firecracker. Totally insane. But she's at least always up for a good experiment."

"So... you're asking for introductions after riding in on that?" Marthel laughed. This guy might be fun. "Fine. I'm Marthel, the Maelstrom Mage, and this is Nadia."

"Pleasure," Nadia said, doing little to conceal her distaste for the newcomers.

"Maelstrom Mage, huh?" The stranger raised one eyebrow that had begun to glow slightly. "I've never seen you in my wanderings through it."

"When the Maelstrom began and beings began to emerge from it, I had my first planeswalk."

"So you've never been inside of it?"

"No. I haven't. But I am of the Maelstrom just as it seems your mount is. Just as you are."

"Listen, buddy," the stranger said, "I don't think you can just go around calling yourself the Maelstrom mage if you haven't ever actually been inside the Maelstrom."

"Well what do you call yourself?"

"I'm Odom. Right now I'm thinking of calling myself the duplicant. I'm pretty good with illusions and copies."

"Well then I can call myself the Maelstrom Mage. You don't have a claim on the title."

"See... That's like me saying I'm a member of the Gruul just because I bounce between the Izzet and Simic. I mean... I am a member of the Gruul, but not because I just happen to be a member of two guilds that share colors with them. I've actually been through the initiations and such. Let me tell you getting buried alive is way worse than staring down a ragebeast. Granted I only go there anymore because of the parties."

"You're not making any sense. I am of the Maelstrom. When those other beings awoke, so did my spark. I have a unique nature," Marthel countered.

"Yes. You're different. But that doesn't make you special. We're all different. That's why we're planeswalkers." Odom climbed back up onto Maelstrom Wanderer's back.

"I think you need to shut up before I come over there and slap some sense into you."

Odom looked down and patted Maelstrom Wanderer on the side. "Come on, Maelstromo. We don't need this kind of negativity in our lives."

Marthel watched as the large elemental turned around and lumbered away.


	26. Chapter 26

Planar Chaos

One Shots: For Science!

Upon arriving on Segovia, Odom was intensely aware of the fact that he had been shrunk down to about one one-hundredth his normal size. He felt squeezed, almost like he would burst at the seams. It wasn't a feeling he particularly liked, but at the same time the creatures on this plane were unique in their smallness. The largest of leviathans was, compared to the fauna of other planes, the size of an elephant.

He had a small break scheduled during his research so he could take part in the most famous of Segovian customs, a visit to the Hippodrome. They watched all sorts of spectacles from gladiators to chariot races. Odom had front row seats and a perfect view of all the beasts that would be present in the arena.

Soon, however, his attention was fixed on one of the combatants. A bald man in blue and yellow robes that fought using only his fists and magic was steadily advancing in the tournament being held that day. Odom grew curious about this man. A warrior this powerful couldn't just be trained. He had to have been born with some innate abilities present in his genetic makeup. He wanted, no, needed, a biological sample from the combatant.

"Excuse me," Odom called out after the tournament was over and the combatants were free to mingle with the rest of the crowd for the remainder of the day. The bald man glanced over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, pointing to himself.

"Yes, sir, I'm speaking to you."

The warrior strode over and stood in front of Odom. "What do you want, an autograph?"

"Of sorts," Odom said, smiling.

"Of sorts?"

"Well, I'll get to that later. I wanted to compliment you on your performance in that tournament. I've never seen a warrior with such skill. Where did you study? Who did you train under?"

"My masters live very far away."

"What are they masters of? Magic? Combat? You engage in both with a tenacity and grace I haven't found in anyone else in this world."

"You must have studied a lot then."

"Oh no. Only the last few days. But I know something unique when I see it. I'm sort of unique myself." He gestured to the mismatched half of his face. "So, about that autograph, may I take a sample of your skin for study? Some blood as well?"

"My... what?" The bald man took a step back.

"Sorry. I should have introduced myself first. I'm Odom." Odom extended his hand. "I'm something of a wandering scientist, specializing in the biological sciences."

"Brock," the warrior said, giving Odom a very quick handshake. He examined his palm until he was satisfied with its appearance.

"I was thinking, you have to have been born with some of those abilities because nobody gets this good from training. I didn't get as good as I am from training, of course that was mostly an experiment that went horribly wrong and turned out okay in the end."

"And what exactly do you want to do with my skin?" Brock crossed his arms.

Odom scratched his head. Brock took a second glance at the scientist's hair. It seemed to be a different shade. "Well," Odom began, "I mostly collect samples of biomass and mutate them in order to create new and interesting creatures."

"Abominations, you mean."

"You sound like my study buddy," Odom laughed. "She thinks they're abominations too, but at the same time she can't deny that studying created life gives her a new insight into natural life."

Brock let out a sigh. This scientist, mage, whatever he was, had no sense of order or balance. His creations could become massive threats to the world around him, but Brock hadn't seen anything out of place on Segovia since he arrived. "I suppose I'll have to come back to your lab?"

"Oh, no," Odom said. "My lab is much too far for anyone here to travel to. I'd imagine it's about as far away as your masters." He rolled up one of his sleeves and winked. Brock was shocked to see that one of Odom's arms was made of wood and wrapped in vines.

"That's not an illusion, is it?" Brock reached out a hand and touched the bark, finding it rough and cool to the touch.

"Nope. The experiment that went wrong resulted in a spectacular explosion that ripped apart most of my torso and tore off this part of my face." He gestured to the mismatched half. "I was put back together by an incredibly chaotic magical force I can't quite explain."

"What are you?"

"I think you'll find my answer in this question: What are you?" Odom chuckled.

"That said, I think I at least need to check it out." Brock extended his hand. "I'd like you to take me there."

They planeswalked. Brock found himself standing on a landing in a spacious apartment in one of Ravnica's residential districts. He followed the staircase down to what he assumed had once been a living room but was now a laboratory/incubation chamber. Inside a tub being heated by a series of steam tubes was a bubbling pile of biomass.

"It's nowhere near ready yet," Odom said when he saw Brock inspecting the tub. "I haven't figured out what I want to do with it yet."

"Seems harmless enough," Brock said.

"Yeah. The last thing the Simic guild made that was actually dangerous on a large scale was Experiment One. I had a small part in that, mostly worked on the tentacles." Odom wiggled his fingers.

A low rumbling came from the next room. Brock's eyes widened as a large, bark covered nose poked through the doorway.

"Oops," Odom looked sheepish. "Feeding time. Very well. Back home with you." The creature beyond the doorway was unsummoned from whatever plane it came from.

"What... was that?" Brock asked. Blood was slowly returning to his face.

"That was Maelstrom Wanderer, or as I sometimes call him, Broseidon. My Broster Strudel. The Bro-est of Bros. He's the best."

"What exactly is Maelstrom Wanderer?"

"That explosion I mentioned was in an Izzet artifice lab. I woke up in the Maelstrom of Alara to that giant elemental puppy dog looking at me and thought I was dead. So I did what anyone who believed they were already dead would do. I climbed on his back and together we wandered around for a few years just being bros."

A new voice that was shockingly familiar to Brock called out, "Honey? I'm back!"

Ashleigh descended the stairs carrying an armful of jars. She was continuing to talk to Odom, unaware that Brock was there. "You know, I was wondering, have you ever thought about being parents?"

"Ashleigh, that's just silly. You know planeswalkers can't have kids. If they could it would have happened by now."

"I know. I was thinking about that ball of biomass, though. We could create something truly fantastic together."

"You'd make something that would destroy the world," Brock said bitterly. He'd already adopted a fighting stance, much to Odom's confusion.

"You!" Ashleigh snarled, almost dropping her jars. Brock noted she'd traded her impractical dress for robes similar to Odom's but in blue and red instead of blue and green.

"Whoa whoa whoa." Odom stepped between them. "Ash, give me those jars. You know the rules. No fighting in the lab. We have too many delicate experiments going on in here. Take it upstairs or outside."

"I won't make the same mistake as last time," Brock growled. He watched every motion of Ashleigh handing off the jars to Odom. "I will rid the multiverse of your stain."

"I'd rather you not," Odom said, arranging the jars on a shelf. "She's kind of sort of my girlfriend."

"Kind of sort of?" Brock was both confused and incredulous.

"Well what he means is we hang out sometimes," Ashleigh said. "Sometimes we do what he wants to do. Sometimes we do what I want to do. It's a very balanced relationship."

"Except I keep almost dying, Ash." Odom turned around and crossed his arms. "I swear you're nothing but bad luck."

"She probably does it on purpose." Brock narrowed his eyes and looked over at Odom. "Odom you're a fool if you let her live any longer. She's a threat to the multiverse."

"So are the eldrazi and I don't see you trying to destroy them. Right, Ash?" Odom looked over to the space where Ashleigh once was. "Ash?"

"Dammit!" Brock slammed his fist onto a nearby table. "Why don't you _see_? Why don't you _care_?"

Odom shrugged. "I just know how to deal with her. She may want to destroy the world, but if I can dangle enough shiny things in front of her or get her wrapped up in one of my projects she forgets about it for a while."

"But she's pure evil."

"There's no such thing," Odom thoughtfully stroked the bubbling biomass. "She just thinks differently than you do."

"Destroying the world is evil."

"See, you see this nebulous concept you call evil. I see a curiosity about the building blocks of the world and how they fit together. You'll never know unless you tear it apart." A flash of insight flickered in Odom's eyes.

"Ojutai preserve me..." Brock sighed. "I'll be keeping an eye on both of you."

Odom was left alone with his biomass and a whirlwind of thoughts. He didn't know if Brock's ideas about evil and good were right. He didn't know what category Ashleigh fit into. He did know one thing, though. He needed some samples from a two headed dragon.


	27. Chapter 27

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Never Night

She awoke confused. It was dark outside. It should never be dark outside. Ashleigh shot up, dislodging the multitude of fairies that had been using her for a makeshift bed. They squeaked angrily but began chattering among themselves when they too realized the change that had come over their home. Something was very wrong. She needed to speak to Oona. Lorwyn's cyclical nature was known to the planeswalker, in fact she preferred the facet of Shadowmoor where everything was cloaked in a gentle twilight, but it was never actually night.

Ashleigh, followed by a few cliques of fairies who particularly enjoyed harvesting her dreams, wove her way through the thick undergrowth to the secret clearing where Oona held court. She felt her breath catch in her throat and her heart almost stopped when she arrived.

Instead of the gentle queen of the fairies with tresses of white and a cloak that resembled the petals of a blue flower, the creature that had granted the wayward planeswalker mercy and earned her respect, someone else was sitting in Oona's clearing. An elven woman with curving horns like an antelope's.

"Who are you?" Ashleigh cried. "Where is Oona?"

"And what manner of creature are you? You have no horns, you are not an elf," the usurper replied.

Ashleigh's mind raced, suddenly overcome with a loud chorus of voices. How long had she and her fairies been asleep? The cliques that followed her had begun to view her as a sort of lieutenant and stayed with her at all times waiting on orders from Oona. There had been something about a battle and the fairy Veesa, but she and her cliques needed to rest. Glen Elendra, the court of Oona wasn't that far away, they thought they could easily make it there when they awoke. When they awoke it was night.

"You aren't being polite," the elf woman said coldly. Several cliques of fairies crept out from behind her, brandishing weapons.

"It was all Oona's fault," a fairy said. "It was her fault that Endry and Iliona and Veesa died."

"She ruined our world. The Great Aurora took day and night and ruined them," another said.

"The sun will come up soon," yet another chimed in. "We can have a time for sleep and harvest. Balance is restored."

Ashleigh's retort caught in her throat. The rest of the Vendilion clique had been missing for quite some time, but Oona had never once told Ashleigh what was happening. She had to believe it was because the Queen of the Fae didn't want her to worry.

"Since you won't dignify the new queen with an introduction, I shall begin," the elf woman said. "I am Maralen, or rather, I am a part of Oona that took the form of Maralen."

"This isn't making any sense," Ashleigh had known there were those who wanted to find Glen Elendra and destroy Oona in order to gain her power over the plane. A cold breeze gusted through the clearing, causing Ashleigh to pull her red cloak more tightly around her. The voices still wouldn't stop. They muffled Maralen's voice.

"We don't like her, Ashleigh," one of her fairies whispered in her ear. "She scares us."

"I'm sure you'll be more inclined to believe me if you see the bodies of my precious pawns. They played their parts so well." Maralen smiled.

Ashleigh turned and ran in the direction Maralen indicated. The cloud of fairies that followed her was a mixture of her cliques and those loyal to this new queen. With every pound of her heart, a foot hit the ground. Her long red cloak, now ragged at its edges, streamed out behind her like a bloody banner. Her breath burned in her lungs, feeling like hundreds of tiny crystal swords raking down her throat. Still the voices cried out, hundreds of high pitched shouts that wouldn't stop. Even more whispered unintelligible things.

She came to a sudden halt. Veesa and Iliona's corpses lay at the base of a tree, positioned like they were sleeping. Each had a stab wound in their chest. Next to them lay their brother, Endry, whose chest still rose and fell with the deep breaths of slumber. He was missing a wing.

Ashleigh dropped to her knees and picked up the tiny fairy. With a finger she gently stroked his hair, willing him to wake up.

"Endry," she whispered, not wanting to shatter his tiny eardrums. She felt tears sting her eyes and blinked them back to no avail. "Endry," she said a little louder.

"He won't wake," another fairy said. "He's going to dream forever."

"Is that why you collected my dreams?" Ashleigh turned to face the fairy who spoke. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Because if you have your own you'll never wake up?"

"No," the fairy said. "We did that so Oona could see what happened outside of Glen Elendra."

Ashleigh returned Endry to his sleeping place beside his sisters, plucking a leaf off of a nearby bush to give him a blanket in case the nights grew cold. The voices had diminished to whispers now, but they still wouldn't be quiet.

"I can't stay here," Ashleigh choked on the words as sobs began to wrack her body. The fairies crowded around her, attempting to embrace their hornless elf, small giant, giant kithkin, and any number of other descriptors they had for a human, a creature they'd never seen before. Their efforts were in vain.

She'd disappeared.


	28. Chapter 28

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Dragon War

Rinok stared into the ferocious eyes of the elven woman in front of him. Behind him was a loyal army that would give their lives at his command. Before him stood a battalion of scaled warriors who breathed fire and light led by this Envoy of Dragonfire. She was every bit the shrewd military commander he was, but with one difference. Rinok's noble mission meant he would succeed. In all the songs and stories, he succeeded. This one would be no different.

Sa'Raah gazed calmly into the eyes of her enemy. He was a fool, seeking to create strife where there need be only peace under the compassionate wings of her mother. The Dromoka would destroy what went against the laws of nature, but all they wished was for everyone to join the family.

"I have heard of your past, Sa'Raah," Rinok's sword slammed into hers. She held him away with a block. He pressed her defense, testing it. "Once you understood the need to sacrifice the weak so you would be strong.

"I raise the weak up with me, Rinok," Sa'Raah spat. "Can you say the same?"

"Without the death of the weak," Rinok swung his blade in a wide arc as he spoke, "the multiverse can't keep improving. It can't grow without a cull."

"I've done plenty of culling in my day." Sa'Raah parried the blow. "It did not achieve the desired result."

Rinok feinted right and struck left, landing a blow to Sa'Raah's side. He smiled as her sandstone scale armor was stained red with blood.

Sa'Raah staggered. Her army was busy fighting around her, but there was one force she could always call on.

Her mother.

She cast her voidwalker's magic through the space between spaces, searching for her mother's warmth.

"Sa'Raah?" Dromoka was surprised.

"Mother, help me," Sa'Raah said weakly through the magical channel that could summon Dromoka the Eternal to her side.

"Of course, my daughter." Dromoka traveled through the channel Sa'Raah created, shielded from the chaos of the blind eternities. She let out a mighty roar upon landing on the battlefield, causing her daughter's adversary to stumble back in shock.

"We have heard of your meddlings, Rinok," Dromoka growled. "See the might of the dragonlords you seek to overthrow!" She flew into the air, ready to blast the warrior with her breath of cleansing light. At the last minute, he threw a number of his men in front of him to take the blow. They threw spears and shot arrows at the dragonlord, wounding her but it was not enough for Sa'Raah to be forced to return her mother to Tarkir.

Sa'Raah was able to catch her breath. She drew her hand away from her side to see the blood had vanished. Her mother had healed her.

Rinok's army couldn't stand against the dragon army now. He knew this was a losing battle and one he could not continue to grow into a full on war. Yet. He would have other opportunities to clash with this Envoy of Dragonfire, of that he was certain.

Rinok raised a horn to his lips, but thought better than to sound a retreat. Any way the dragon army could be weakened would make his chances of being able to sustain another battle all the better. Rinok himself retreated, but he left his men to keep fighting. They would fall for his great purpose. The strongest would survive and continue to improve his forces until he was unstoppable.

Sa'Raah leaned heavily on her mother's side.

"You are doing well, little one," Dromoka said as she looked up to see the many species of dragon Sa'Raah had rallied to her cause. "Have you returned to your old home yet?"

"Not yet, mother," Sa'Raah said. "I still have much to learn about battle before I go back."

"I did raise you in a time of peace," Dromoka agreed. "All the same, you are improving in your command of this army. Do you have further need of my assistance?"

"Not anymore, mother," Sa'Raah said. She allowed Dromoka to return to Tarkir and their clan through the same channel that she used to summon the dragonlord. This day the dragons were victorious, but Sa'Raah couldn't help but wonder how many others there were like Rinok who would refuse to join with her.


	29. Chapter 29

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Playing the Field

"Ah, Teysa," Vilhelm said as he entered the audience chamber of the Orzhov guild, "as beautifully fragile in your mortality as I pictured."

The leader of the Orzhov slumped in her chair, leaning one one elbow with a bored expression on her face. A cane was resting against the wall behind her. Vilhelm took note of this. It indicated a handicap, something he could use to his advantage.

"What have you come to petition?" she asked automatically. She heard so many petitions a day from all manner of folk. It had become a chore, little more. It didn't help that after an incident in the treasury she was constantly watched by her deceased relative, Karlov.

"I believe your guild has need of my services in your debt collection department," Vilhelm spoke with his mouth wider than usual to expose his fangs.

"A vampire? What use could we have for you? The maw ensures we collect on our debts." Teysa disliked the maw. Wretches would throw themselves into its gaping jaws in order to erase the debts they accrued from the guild in life only to be forced to pay them off in death.

"I understand some of your collectors wind up... disposed of in the line of duty," Vilhelm said.

Teysa had to agree to this. If someone was truly desperate they could simply shoot the messenger, as the phrase went. Collectors had died before, their souls joining the ranks of the Orzhov's ever growing army of ghosts.

"As you know, my kind are notoriously hard to get rid of. We lack the issue of mortality. We never age, we never die of natural causes. Our bodies never wear out as long as we have a flowing supply of blood."

Teysa's ears pricked up at this. She had long wanted to be out from under the thumb of the Obzedat, the ghost council that ran the Orzhov guild and for whom she was just a mouthpiece and puppet. She was about to answer when Karlov cut in.

"You are an affront to our guild is what you are." He crossed his fat, ghostly arms. "We have no use for the undying when we command the endless ranks of the dead."

"I would think the Golgari have more of a monopoly on the dead. You have souls, but they have bodies. No doubt you've run into the," Vilhelm paused, "limitations of incorporeal forms."

Teysa had to hand it to this vampire. He knew how to play politics with the best of them. Grandfather Karlov, and the rest of the Obzedat, only had power so long as they had a fleshy marionette. They needed the Envoy of Ghosts in order to make their will known and have it done. This provided their familial connection to the guild's leadership and ensured its loyalty. Noting this insecurity and pinpointing it with the verbal equivalent of a sniper's crossbow bolt might backfire, but then again it might not.

Karlov took a 'breath' to speak, but Teysa interrupted him. "You've made your point clear, Grandfather Karlov. That said, I think this vampire has something of value to him. We might have a use for someone so hard to kill on our payroll. I suppose you'll want to be paid in blood?"

"But of course," Vilhelm said. He smiled, winking at Karlov who became flustered and would have blushed if he had any blood in his ethereal body.

"We shall draw up a contract, then. It will be legally and magically binding Mr..."

"Vilhelm."

"You're forbidden from practicing advokism, you know that," Karlov cried to Teysa.

"Grandfather, I hardly believe that this counts as practicing law magic when it involves ensuring the loyalty of the latest member of the guild." Teysa picked up her cane and leaned heavily on it. She descended the raised dais and came face to face with Vilhelm, only coming up to his chin.

Even to the ageless vampire, Teysa was still beautiful. Every line of age etched into her face told a lifetime of stories, something Vilhelm could appreciate. She'd been betrayed. He could tell. He could easily fix it all for her, show her his cure. Nobody would betray her again if he could win her loyalty. He could start his grand design here, in this audience chamber, with this woman who was the slave of the dead.

"We have a deal, Mr. Vilhelm?" Teysa extended a gloved hand. Vilhelm shook it, surprised at the strength of her grip. She dropped his hand quickly, turning and ascending the stairs back to her seat. "I expect you to return here tomorrow for a formal signing of the contract. If not, then you will have my dissatisfaction and no mercy."

"Of course, my lady." Vilhelm bowed, thankful it let him hide the mocking smile that for a moment twisted his features. One down, one to go. Isperia would certainly be harder to win than Teysa.

It took Vilhelm two weeks to finish all the paperwork required to even be considered for an audience with Grand Arbiter Leonos II and the guild master Isperia. He had heard about the bureaucratic nature of the guild, but even the patient Vilhelm felt this was excessive. When he returned to deliver the completed mountains of papers, he made sure to hide his new Orzhov signet. He typically wore it as a decorative pin holding his ascot in place.

This definitely threw a wrench in his plans, but Vilhelm was patient. The Azorius worked closely with the Orzhov at times, especially in matters of adjudicating disputes. If his new position were to be made known, it could speed up the process. He resolved to wait and see what happened. If the time came and his request had not yet been processed, he could then alert the low ranking law mages of his status.


	30. Chapter 30

Planar Chaos

One Shots: The Streets of Paliano

"Believe me when I say you will never have that chance." Brock stood over the renegade walker, fists ablaze. The fire wavering around his hands matched the fire glowing in his eyes. Both glowed like beacons in the dark alleyways of Paliano's lowlands. He forced himself to see every detail of the planeswalker's ashen face, to commit it to memory. If this was his human nature, then he was going to embrace it.

"You're not going to kill me," the walker said. He was right. Brock didn't think he could kill, not yet. Even though it was arguably the right thing to do in this circumstance. He'd found this man creeping through Paliano's alleys and had trailed him after a distinct feeling that something was not right.

It had been the clothes that tipped Brock off. The white traveling cloak was out of place in the colorful streets of Fiora's capitol city. Brock had met walkers in the past who took pains to blend in with their surroundings. He himself did so in order to not alarm the populace. At the moment, his yellow and blue robes had been traded for the linen shirt, breeches, and leather boots in cheerful colors favored by the men of this plane.

"What makes you say that?" Brock spat. The flames encircling his hands blazed brighter.

"This is Paliano. How will you hide the body?" The rogue walker chuckled.

"Murder is not illegal in this city, as you well know. The laws binding the populace don't prevent us from killing each other."

"I still don't think you'll do it. You're too young, too idealistic." The man sighed. "I used to be like you, then I returned home to find my world shattered. There's a big multiverse out there, and you need someone to help you through it. You can't just run out hands blazing and burn anything you deem evil to the ground."

"And you would say you aren't evil? You, who would use your power to meddle in this plane's affairs?" Brock growled. "The people of Fiora deserve that right, to live without our interference."

"No. I'm not evil." The man sat up, leaning against one of the walls that held up Paliano's high city. It was the home of nobility, the likes of King Brago and The Black Rose. "I just see a different path. Arguably a better one."

"This better path you speak of would take away this world's right to self-determination. We must not interfere with their government, with their way of life. We planeswalkers are given this immense gift and yet so many of us decide to try and ruin it for the others."

"Or it could usher in a new era of peace. There are planeswalkers who live to, as you say, meddle in the affairs of other planes. I can think of a prime example on my old home. Once mighty Khans ruled five clans. Now they are subjects of dragons thanks to the interference of one Sarkhan Vol."

This struck a nerve with Brock. This man was referring to Tarkir, his home. According to Master Ojutai's official teachings, heavily enforced by Taigam, there had always been dragonlords. Master Narset had uncovered the truth and shared it with Brock before her exile, that a thousand years prior there had been a great war between the clans and dragons. The dragons had won.

"That war was over a thousand years ago," Brock said, taking a step back. "How old are you?"

"I'm certainly not as old as the Mending, and I never saw the dragon war," the man said. "I did, however, witness the reawakening of Progenitus caused by the Maelstrom of Alara. It was at that time I was whisked away through the aether to Tarkir, where I landed in a very different world from the one you know. The Temur were led by Surrak Dragonclaw, whom you know as Surrak the Huntcaller. There were no dragons, they had all been destroyed long ago."

Brock continued to back away, letting the fire around his hands die as the planeswalker continued his explanation of this other Tarkir. "I learned that Sarkhan had traveled through a portal in what once was the tomb of Ugin, the Spirit Dragon. It took him back a thousand years to change the past so Ugin might live. As a result, the dragon storms continued and the dragons never died out. The Khans failed. The Temur became the Atarka, the Mardu became the Kolaghan, the Abzan became the Dromoka, the Sultai became the Silumgar, and the Jeskai became the Ojutai."

"But... that means..."

"It means a great deal. Sometimes our interference is necessary." The man stood up. "We're not so different, you and I. We just think about things differently. I would expect nothing less from a student of Ojutai," the man chuckled again. "His school is quite dogmatic at times."

"That would be because of Taigam," Brock answered automatically.

"Interesting. You don't call him 'Master'?"

"Only Master Narset and Master Ojutai were my Masters."

"And what are you?"

"I hadn't attained the rank when I left."

"So why did you leave?"

"Things were done against Master Ojutai's wishes and without his counsel. I could not agree with them nor support them with my presence. I felt my knowledge would be put to better use in the wider worlds."

"And this is the use? Being the multiverse's protector? Maintaining its order?"

"I see it more as maintaining its freedom." Brock shifted his feet slightly to give himself a better stance in case the other planeswalker attacked.

"We used to be gods, you know," the other walker said. "We used to be immortal."

"I have no use for gods or eternal life."

"Neither do I. I just find it interesting and want to know more." The rogue walker extended his hand. "I'm Marthel, by the way."

"Brock." He cautiously took Marthel's hand. The handshake was firm and friendly.

"I think once you learn to think a little differently we'll be good friends."

"Just promise me you won't meddle in the affairs of other planes and we won't have a problem," Brock said.

"I can't promise I won't," Marthel said with a gleam of mischief in his eye.

"Then we'll keep running into each other."

Marthel winked. "I look forward to it."


	31. Chapter 31

Planar Chaos

One Shots: The Wanderer

Kyari felt a sudden need to planeswalk. She tried to ignore it, absorbed as she was in her research on the small eldrazi scion in front of her. She looked over her shoulder at the trails left by the broods of the titans and let out a sigh. Zendikar would be here when she returned, likely in the same condition it was in now. The plane was dying, of that she was certain, and these parasites were the cause. If she could determine how they consumed mana and sucked the land dry she might be able to combat their advancement. That was a project for another day, though.

She couldn't say she was sad to leave. The eldrazi filled her with disgust the same way they filled Odom with curiosity. Kyari had avoided coming to Zendikar for that very reason and often found herself looking for excuses to go somewhere else. The land felt wrong, especially when compared to her upbringing on mana-rich Shandalar.

"I would say 'don't go anywhere'," she said to the scion, "but you likely wouldn't understand nor care."

She planeswalked and found herself in a chaotic shifting of the land on which she stood. The high mountain supported a monastery draped in a banner depicting a large eye. Kyari watched, transfixed, as the image faded in and out, replaced by something similar yet at the same time very different. Pulsating feathered dragons filled the air and vanished in a cycle. The mountain on which she stood pulsed as well, with unused power. She felt it bubbling up, trying to break free and being ignored. The shifting came to a stop, the world of dragons sliding into focus.

What had she just witnessed? An entire world changed in an instant, sending her head reeling. The flow of the world's mana was altered with what felt like entire sources being ignored by those who lived there. She felt a surge of blue roiling to the north and began to follow it.

Over her journey of several days, Kyari was led to a valley that housed a massive dragon with antlers. There were hunters piling carcasses of beasts in front of the giant creature. She, Kyari was certain it was female, devoured the animals bones and all. She was surrounded by a brood of smaller, wild dragons and humans. She felt rather than saw a reverence for the gargantuan dragon. It was also intermingled with fear.

"Interesting, isn't it?"

Kyari turned to see a middle aged woman with a streak of gray in her long black hair sitting behind her. She wore blue and yellow robes that reminded Kyari of the garb worn by the ascetic pyromancers of Mount Keralia on the plane of Regatha. She was also reminded that she needed to go back to continue her study of Regathan fauna. The incident with the firecats was no longer fresh in her mind. It would also prevent he from returning to Zendikar.

"I've been studying this clan's ancient artifacts for some time. Mammoth ivory with carvings of the past and such. Would you like to see?" She reached into her pack and produced the broken tip of a tusk covered in intricate carvings that seemed to depict some sort of battle. There was a large dragon that featured prominently in the center. The woman pointed to it and continued speaking. "I think this is a depiction of Ugin, also known as the Spirit Dragon. He's supposedly the source of the dragon storms from which our dragons are born."

"Dragon storms?" Kyari asked. She turned around and mimicked the woman's lotus position, accepting the piece of ivory she held out. Kyari examined it more closely. There were what looked to be several storms depicted in the carving, five to be precise. Each seemed to be conflated with a particular element.

"The dragons are born fully grown from the elemental storms. Ugin is supposedly their source. He's the soul of Tarkir according to the histories. I think he's some sort of powerful planeswalker, even more powerful than we are."

"How do you know I'm a-" Kyari was interrupted by the woman.

"It's the ears." She tapped her own rounded ones. "Nobody from this plane has ears like that. You're an... elf? Is that the right word? I've had visions of other planes ever since I could remember, but sometimes I mixed up the proper names of the creatures I saw."

"I am."

"Also something of a traveling scholar?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. I've been needing an assistant," the woman said cheerfully.

"There's mana here that isn't being used. It had been in the past," Kyari said, a puzzled expression on her face. "Why is that?"

"That would be due to the dragon wars. The clans, ruled by Khans, engaged in a war with the dragons and lost. The dragons won and much knowledge was lost in the process. One ordered the execution of every monk who used something called Ghostfire. It's another thing I've found associated with this Ugin character. Supposedly it's some sort of invisible fire." The woman produced a scroll from her pack. "Here it is. I salvaged this from the depths of a monastery's archives before they caught me. It's a map to the Crucible of the Spirit Dragon. I think it might be some sort of altar or maybe even a tomb. We might find more answers there."

"I suppose that would be best." Kyari stood, helping the woman to her feet as well. "When I arrived here I saw something, some sort of change in the world. Things were shifting in and out of focus and the mana started flowing in new channels, but it also seemed like those channels were ancient as well. Did you notice anything?"

"No. I didn't see anything like that," she said. "However, there's something interesting about this plane. It attracts a lot of planeswalkers and I'm not sure why. There's one who lives with the Dromoka in their stronghold in the desert. I've seen another roaming around trying to stir up trouble. A third stays with the monastic order that lives in those mountains to the south."

Kyari noticed the woman's expression grew sad when she mentioned the third planeswalker. Perhaps they had been friends and had a falling out.

"Anyway," the woman stepped around Kyari, "I think our best bet is to keep heading north for now. There are plenty of sites where cultural artifacts might give us more of an insight into the way this plane has changed in the last thousand years. The Temur were an incredibly prolific people when it came to such things, mythologizing their histories in a way the other clans did not. Jeskai records were destroyed, the Abzan ceased their practices of communing with spirits, and honestly I'm not too sure what happened with the Sultai and Mardu. I doubt the latter kept many records anyway." She rolled her eyes. "Poor planning on their parts."

"Before we go, can I ask you something?" Kyari asked.

"Sure."

"What is your name? Mine is Kyari Alexiona."

"My name, Kyari Alexiona, is a death sentence laid down by someone I thought was my friend. Forgive me if I don't use it."

"Well what am I supposed to call you?"

"Names tie us to a particular plane. I have no place anymore. You may call me Wanderer."


	32. Chapter 32

Planar Chaos

One Shots: For Every King, a Queen

"Your Highness," Sverre bowed before the Queen of the Fae. The bright summer sun shone down on Lorwyn as it slowly descended towards the horizon. The light shimmered in Oona's white hair and caused her blue flower cloak to glitter faintly.

"Grave Birther," Oona said, taking a sip from a tiny goblet.

"As you know, there has been a change in the multiverse. Does the magic of the Aurora not feel different to you?"

"It is true that there has been something of a shift. The sun moves towards the horizon faster than I anticipated. I've taken the liberty of putting a contingency into action, though."

"And if this contingency fails?" Sverre had come to Lorwyn some years ago to witness its cyclical nature for comparison to his own Helheim. He had yet to see the Shadowmoor facet and was excited for the experience, but at the same time he was apprehensive. The mending, that event that had robbed him of his godlike powers, was being felt throughout the multiverse. On Shadowmoor that manifested in an early shifting of the Great Aurora.

"It should not fail." Oona smiled.

Sverre hid behind a tree, watching intently as the three fairies interrogated this strange girl in a red hood that appeared out of nowhere. Sverre immediately knew what she was, a planeswalker. He followed them slowly to Glen Elendra, hoping that Oona would remember him.

He'd left Lorwyn before the change of the Aurora at the fairy queen's behest to ensure that at least someone would maintain their memories. It was a dangerous time to be on Shadowmoor, but the complete change that came over the creatures fascinated Sverre. The only ones to remain mostly unchanged were the fairies themselves. Others gave into their darker natures, destroying, excluding, and marauding. The fairies maintained their mercurial dispositions, causing mischief to their hearts' content regardless of the season.

He knew what she was. Humans weren't native to Lorwyn, so this girl had to be a planeswalker. She was certainly a new one, as was evident by her complete and utter confusion at the world in which she found herself. Sverre wanted to see how Oona dealt with another walker.

The fairy queen's high, clear voice rang through the clearing, silencing the chatter of her subjects. "So, you mean to tell us you have no idea where you are." It was a statement of fact rather than a question. Sverre caught Oona's eye and a knowing look passed between them. She'd retained her memory of him. "I believe," the queen continued, "that someone has returned who can enlighten you as to your current situation." She beckoned Sverre forward.

When visiting the Queen of the Fae, Sverre always made sure to dress the part. His helmet shone softly in the autumn twilight and the rich black velvet cape swirled around him as he strode forward. He was clean shaven and well rested.

"Your Majesty." Sverre bowed deeply. He then addressed the girl in the red hood. "My lady, I am Sverre, a planeswalker. I believe you are one as well."

"I remember the demon, then the cave wall disappearing, and next thing I knew I woke up here." She bit her lip and wrung her hands, trying to remember.

"It would be best if you started with your name," Sverre said.

"Ashleigh."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ashleigh." Sverre inclined his head.

"Likewise, Sverre," Ashleigh said.

"If you'll please excuse us, I have important business to discuss with Queen Oona that would better be done in private."

"Ensure our guest is well taken care of." Oona dismissed the other fairies from her clearing.

Sverre knelt before the queen, kissing her tiny hand. "I'm pleased to see you remember me."

"I doubted I would be able to forget someone like you, Sverre." He thought he saw a slight blush flash across her pale cheeks.

"About that contingency of yours, it seems unnecessary now."

"Indeed." Oona's face fell. "I'm worried, though. There are strange things happening all around. Countless times I have survived attempts on my life, but this might be different."

"How so, my queen?" His brow wrinkled in concern.

"I created an avatar to house my memories in the form of Maralen of the Mornsong, an elven woman who disappeared some time ago. There's been a bit of a problem in getting her to merge with me once more."

"This is a problem."

"Apparently she is attempting to start some sort of revolution."

Sverre closed his eyes. "Grave news, Oona. What if she succeeds?"

"She won't. My fairies are loyal to me."

"I understand, but what if she succeeds? We can just be hypothetical."

"If she succeeds, then I can only see this ending with my death." Oona was solemn, but unafraid. "I have thought for some time that I might die one day. The only thing truly capable of ending my life is the moonglove poison."

"Perhaps you don't need to die," Sverre said. "You could come with me, live in my world."

"Sverre," Oona sighed. "You know I can't leave my home, my people."

"I know," Sverre assented. "Just think about it, though. Please. For me."

"Fine. I'll consider it."

"Thank you, my queen."

Sverre planeswalked directly into Glen Elendra to find Oona sitting on her throne with her head in her hands. Ashleigh was nowhere to be found. The last Sverre had heard, Oona had sent the young planeswalker a message alerting her to the attack on the glen and the death of Veesa.

"I came as quickly as I could, my queen." Sverre knelt before her. "What do you need of me?"

He had planeswalked away from Lorwyn just so he could turn around and come back right inside of the glen to reach Oona's side in an instant. Her face was paler than usual, her eyelids seemed heavy. Sverre's heart ached to see her this way. In all his years he had never seen anything as enthralling as the ageless beauty of the fairy queen. The grave could never touch something this exquisite, of that Sverre was certain.

"Things are going poorly. They mean to kill me, Sverre." The fear was evident in her eyes now. She was on the brink of tears. Sverre cradled her face with two fingers. "Even if I can somehow win, if my loyal fairies can repel them, too much has been done to alter the magic already. I could never restore it even if I tried. The world would be out of balance forever."

"Oona," Sverre said softly, "will you come with me? Leave this world to Maralen. She means to dismantle the Aurora. It will be a different balance, but Lorwyn will return to balance."

"I don't know," Oona sobbed. She crawled into his palm. "I didn't intend for any of this to happen, Sverre, truly I didn't."

"I know." Sverre stroked her hair. "Ruling takes its toll, especially when undertaken alone. You've spent your entire life controlling the Aurora and maintaining the balance between Lorwyn and Shadowmoor. You've done it all by yourself. Oona, please come with me," he implored. "Be my queen. Let me share your burdens."

"I'll go with you, but we have to make sure they think I'm dead. Otherwise Maralen won't stop searching for me." Oona sat up. "One more request. We cannot tell Ashleigh. It has to be convincing."

"You care for the girl, don't you?"

Oona nodded. "I do. She's been a faithful companion in your absence."

"She can find out one day," Sverre said. "But I understand our need for secrecy now."

Sverre concealed Oona in the hood of his cloak. He then conjured a copy of her to take her place. They hid in the ring of trees surrounding Glen Elendra and waited for Maralen to arrive.

The deed was done. "Oona" was dead and it was time for Sverre to take his new queen to their kingdom.

Upon entering Helheim, Sverre noticed a sudden change in Oona. Where before she was small enough to sit in his hand, now she stood only a head shorter than Sverre.

"What is this place?" she asked. Oona stood close to Sverre. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her back inside his cloak.

"This is Helheim," Sverre said. "This is what I call home."

"I've seen it in your dreams, but I never knew it was this cold. It reminds me of Shadowmoor."

"I thought Shadowmoor reminded me of Helheim."

"This is to be our kingdom?"

Sverre nodded. "It may seem barren and lifeless now, but I have created some of the most beautiful gardens here."

"I should like to see them."

"As you wish, my queen."


	33. Chapter 33

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Army of One

The wild looking man stood firm and alone against the army of Sa'Raah. The Envoy of Dragonfire's typically cheerful nature had turned dark. She was remembering a time when she had stood unafraid against the might of dragons far more ferocious than the ones she commanded.

"What is the matter, Sa'Raah?" The dragon couldn't help but roar the last syllable of her name. "Shall I crunch his face off?"

"No," Sa'Raah placed a steady hand on the dragon's flank, calming it with her touch. "I need to speak to him."

Sa'Raah strode forward, much to the surprise of the man.

"So it is to be one on one?" he asked.

"It is to be no contest," Sa'Raah said. "I wish to speak with you."

"Words are for the weak," he replied, slinging an arc of fire at Sa'Raah. One of her dragons attempted to leap in front of her, but she took the full force of the blast. It did nothing to change her expression. She didn't even halt her advance.

"Even so, I would have you listen. How can you hope to stand against so many?"

"I've fought beasts far greater than you would ever know," he growled.

"Do you see this?" Sa'Raah indicated a necklace she wore made from the tooth of a massive dragon. "I won this from Karrthus of Jund. Alone. I didn't have my comrades then."

The man was staring intently at the dragon tooth. Sa'Raah wasn't sure if he was paying attention, but she kept on with her speech. "I was like you, once. Devouring those I deemed weaker in order to gain their cumulative strength. But then I found a better path. Rather than making enemies of the world and forcing myself to slaughter in order to survive, I find allies who pledge their loyalty and I can truly live."

"Allies are for those who need help. I do not need help." The man's hands remained ablaze. Sa'Raah didn't know how many more fiery assaults she could take before she was forced to retreat. The dragons circling above were enough of a deterrent for the moment.

"Truthfully, could you defeat my army by yourself? Can an army of one stand against scores of dragons?"

"Kill the leader, then that army falls into disarray," the man lunged. Sa'Raah was almost unable to raise her ward in time. His blows glanced off of her. She felt no heat or pain. "From there, they are no issue at all."

At this affront to their generous leader, the dragons converged on the wild man and commenced an attack. Sa'Raah shouted above the din of their roars for them to stop, for them to show mercy like Mother had with her. She couldn't see what they were doing inside the storm of their wings. Shrieks were heard above the battle cries. Sa'Raah needed to make them stop. She didn't want to have to call Mother to her side again so soon. Aunt Atarka, however, might prove to be a beneficial ally in this moment.

Before she could prepare the summoning spell, the dragons halted their assault. The man stood in the middle, mostly unscathed. A baby dragon lay trampled under his feet.

Sa'Raah saw red. Her vision blurred and suddenly she was gripping the wild man by his collar with her blade against his throat. She snarled like a dragon, those around her egging her on. The whites of his brown eyes were bloodshot from sleepless nights. His hair and beard were unkempt, almost blending with the fur of his collar. Sa'Raah wondered if he bled like her other enemies. She wondered if that blood would be just as delicious as it had been when she was the Broodculler. The blade pressed a little harder on his skin.

This wasn't what Mother would want. Sa'Raah snapped out of it before it was too late. She released the man, throwing him back with surprising force before bending to pick up the grievously injured baby. She cast a quick healing spell to stabilize it before passing it off to one of the older dragons. Sa'Raah turned around, murder still in her eyes and heart.

"There was a time when I was known as Broodculler," she began. "I was like you. I destroyed everything I saw. I cared little for life except my own. I have seen the error of my ways. I would hope you could as well. We aren't so different, you and I."

"No," the man said. "We aren't. You have something of the wildfire in you, and that is what they call me. I am Rhyne, the Wildfire. All consuming, never ending, only growing more powerful with each thing I destroy. You've felt it, haven't you? That burning in the pit of your gut whenever you go into battle? You want to let yourself be free and destroy them all."

"I don't," Sa'Raah protested. "I would sooner die myself. My purpose is to unite the dragons of all worlds under Dromoka the Eternal, Dragonlord of Tarkir. What would slaughtering them do to my purpose?"

"Renew it, perhaps?"

"You sound like another man I've met, one who calls himself War's Herald."

"The murderous ferocity inside of you can't be ignored forever. It's a part of who you are, Broodculler."

"I don't use that name anymore. Now I'm Sa'Raah, Envoy of Dragonfire and daughter of Dromoka. You could join us and be one of her children too."

"You'll never stop being her," Rhyne smiled knowingly. Before Sa'Raah could retort he'd planeswalked away.


	34. Chapter 34

Planar Chaos

One Shots: The Grip of the Obzedat

Teysa leaned heavily against Vilhelm, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He knew what she wanted even before she asked. For so much of her life she'd wanted to be free of the ghosts haunting her every step, for the living to stop being indebted to the dead and the deathless. Karlov controlled so much of her movements and the decisions regarding the Orzhov Guild's minutia. Even allowing vampires into the guild was a recent development under Teysa, a development that could have saved them plenty of work if it had been implemented sooner.

"Vilhelm," she said quietly, "can you do it? Could you make me like you?"

"It's not as simple as you think, Teysa," Vilhelm said. He wasn't even sure if he, a vampire from Innistrad, could affect Teysa in any way. Their method for turning mortals involved an exchange of blood, which was why the different bloodlines were so important. He also wondered if he were capable of turning anyone now that he was a planeswalker. He hadn't tried since his spark ignited.

"I don't care how difficult it is." Her eyes were begging for him to say yes. "I can't stand the thought of Karlov and the rest of the Obzedat owning my soul forever. I'd just as soon not have one."

Is that what they really thought? Vampires may not be able to die, but that did not mean they didn't have souls. Vilhelm was once a mortal man, granted that time was very long ago in a very different world.

"Vilhelm, please." He was suddenly very aware of Teysa's heartbeat. The pulse pounded in a vein on her breast. It was a shame she covered her pretty neck with high collars but left her cleavage exposed. Vilhelm was almost tempted to call her a tease over it. "I'll do anything you ask."

That caught his attention. The only thing better than a perfect servant was a willing one. If Teysa was offering Vilhelm anything he wanted, who was he to refuse such an offer from the Envoy of Ghosts? He could make her any number of promises as long as she fulfilled hers first.

"Fine," he said softly. "I'll help you, but it will take time. We'll have to go about it slowly so Karlov and the others won't notice. Is there anywhere we can be alone?"

"My chambers. They don't come in there." She grabbed his wrist and led him through the winding passages of the Orzhov Basilica until they reached a locked door. Teysa produced a key from somewhere on her person and opened it, dragging Vilhelm inside.

He was surprised at the plainness of the space. It didn't seem like the quarters one would expect from a fabulously wealthy guild leader. The decoration was sparse, the furniture unassuming. Altogether it made for a very spartan image. The door was swiftly locked behind them.

"I'll need you to remove that collar," Vilhelm said flirtatiously. He had a feeling that after this first feeding he might have trouble keeping Teysa away from him. The vampires of Innistrad had a way of ensuring their unfinished meals would come back. It also made it difficult to not drain them in one sitting as well.

Teysa did as instructed while keeping her back turned, crossing her arms over her chest to keep the fabric from slipping down too far. Vilehlm's eyes zeroed in on her pulse jumping frantically in the vessels of her neck. He could smell her fear and anticipation. His mouth began to water as he flung his arms around her, holding her completely immobile as his fangs sank into the soft, warm flesh of her throat.

Teysa stiffened at the sudden pain, but soon it was replaced by stifled whimpers and moans. The feeding experience, for both the predator and the prey, was intended to be enjoyable. In fact, to the mortal it was addictive. Vilhelm felt the hot gush of blood flood into his mouth, unaware of just how thirsty he'd been up until this point. It was like he'd been stranded in a desert and found the most beautiful oasis. He hadn't felt this way about blood since he was a vampire neonate. Teysa's blood tasted like metallic wine. Vilhelm wanted more, but just like a good bottle he couldn't drain her all at once. Then he'd never get to experience the unique taste ever again.

It took every last ounce of his self control to remove his fangs from Teysa's throat. Vilhelm let his tongue pass over the wounds, effectively healing them. Teysa was trembling in his grasp and struggling to catch her breath. Her cane had clattered to the floor and she was once again leaning heavily on Vilhelm.

He could do it again so easily. She was here, alone, with him. Nobody would see, and hopefully nobody would hear. Vilhelm licked his lips in preparation for another feed when Teysa spoke. "That was," she stammered, "by Orzhova that was an experience." Another tremor wracked her small frame. She fastened her collar once more, pleased that it covered up the pinprick scars she knew would be present.

"We could do that again," Vilhem's fangs were already poised above Teysa's neck, not caring about the weak barrier presented by the white fabric.

It became a ritual. Once a week Teysa would sneak Vilhelm into her room where he would feed on the sheer excellence of her blood. During his fifth feeding, Vilhelm allowed her to face him. He was surprised to feel her instinctively mimicking him in an attempt to complete the transformation. He couldn't let her do it. Not yet. He needed Teysa to be bound to him in this way until he was finished with this plane and with her. As long as she was in the grip of the Obzedat, she was his perfect pawn.


	35. Chapter 35

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Dragonspeaker

Sa'Raah crept through the sands, staying low to the ground. The stranger who had set up his camp on the edge of her mother's lands needed to be investigated. She took on this mission alone, unusual for the Dromoka, but Sa'Raah had been told many times by her mother that she was a voidwalker and that it made her special. She could be trusted to handle this sort of mission.

The tent was in the style of the Kolaghan. Sa'Raah moved closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the scout that occupied it. She heard a dragon cry above her and looked up. A large red landed outside of the tent and Sa'Raah watched in awe as the beast transformed back into the form of a warrior with long black hair. He looked over his shoulder just as she ducked under the dune.

"I see you, dragon warrior," he called, cupping his hands around his mouth so his voice would carry. "Tell your mother I mean her no harm."

Sa'Raah stood tall and proud. "I'll be the judge of that." She adopted a fighting stance.

"I'm not going to fight you, daughter of dragons." He dropped his staff and held his hands up.

Sa'Raah was confused. Why didn't he fight? He was a warrior after all, and the tent was similar to the Kolaghan. She'd encountered their ferocity and faced down foes more ruthless in battle. They didn't trick and connive.

"Why don't you come sit so we can talk? Take off your helmet and stay a while."

Sa'Raah slowly walked forward, staying on her guard. The Dromoka were unused to being alone. She was more comfortable with it than most from her time on Jund, but she'd become accustomed to the presence of her clan.

"Oh," the warrior said as Sa'Raah came closer. "It's not a helmet, is it?"

"No," Sa'Raah said. "The dragonscale boon is a gift from Dromoka to those who prove themselves."

"It's beautiful."

Sa'Raah was caught off guard by his comment, halting in her tracks. She stammered and then closed her mouth. She opened it again to speak but was unable to. She repeated this process several times before the warrior spoke again.

"Do you," he began, then changed his phrasing, "would you mind if I touched it?"

Sa'Raah was skilled at reading people. His fascination and curiosity were genuine. There was nothing threatening in his body language. She supposed it would be okay to let him see her scales and horns.

The warrior closed the distance between him, gently taking Sa'Raah's face in his hands. He tilted her head this way and that, scrutinizing the seams between her scales and skin. She couldn't control the blush that flooded her cheeks. Sa'Raah barely breathed. She fought to keep her heart steady. What was the expression on his face? It had changed to something different. She felt a strange warmth in her stomach that had nothing to do with the hot desert.

"You're fantastic," the warrior breathed. "I've never before beheld anything so blindingly beautiful. A seamless mesh of human and dragon." His hand passed over her scales in a caress.

"You're certainly nothing to ignore either. How many warriors can transform themselves into dragons? I would give anything to do something like that." Why was she so breathless? "Who are you?"

"My name, daughter of dragons, is Sarkhan Vol." He hadn't let go of her face. Sa'Raah knew she should be on her guard. She should be prepared to attack at the slightest provocation. She also knew that provocation would never come. Sarkhan's face betrayed his heart. Sa'Raah completely enthralled him with her scales, which he'd referred to as beautiful. She felt in him a kindred spirit who longed to fly with the dragons. The only difference was that he had found a way to achieve that dream.

"I'm Sa'Raah."

"Sa'Raah," he said her name like a dragon would. "Would you like to stay with me for a while? I'd like to know more about your scales and the feat that caused Dromoka to give them to you."

"I think that would be wise. Mother did want me to find out who you were and why you were here." Sa'Raah couldn't think that her mother had known what she'd find, but part of her hoped the dragonlord had planned this. Sa'Raah had given herself to the clan wholly. Didn't she deserve to find someone to share that happiness with?

They retired to Sarkhan's tent, sitting across from each other in the small space.

"Sarkhan, who are you? You live in the tents of the Kolaghan but you're alone and more or less unarmed."

"I'm just a traveler, Sa'Raah." Sarkhan moved to sit next to her and continued his examination of her scales. His hands were nimble and delicate, pulling her hair this way and that to see just how far back they went on her scalp. Sa'Raah couldn't deny it felt good. She caught herself leaning into his touch and snapped out of it.

"As am I," she replied. "I'm about to leave on a long journey, actually, assuming Mother says it's okay."

"What sort of journey?"

"A quest to unite the dragons."

"If only it were possible," Sarkhan sighed. "The clans are too different. No lord would give up their dominion."

"I'm not talking about the dragon clans, Sarkhan." Sa'Raah turned to face him. His nose was less than an inch away from hers. "I'm thinking bigger. Dragons from worlds far beyond Tarkir."

"You're a walker?"

"Mhm." Sa'Raah nodded.

"What a coincidence," Sarkhan said. "So am I."

"So what do you think?"

"About what?"

"About my quest? About bringing all the dragons on every plane under the banner of Dromoka?"

"It's a noble quest, but I'm wary of dragons wishing to rule the planes," Sarkhan said. He looked down and to the side. "For a time one such beast attempted to drive me mad in hopes that I would further his cause."

"Someone's already trying?" Sa'Raah was crestfallen. There went her plan.

"Trying and failing. Bolas wants to restore his godlike powers from long ago. He's been thwarted repeatedly, but each defeat just makes him that much more ruthless." Sarkhan took her face in his hands again. He implored, "Sa'Raah, you have to promise me that if you do go out there that you'll avoid him. I can't stand the thought of him doing to you what he did to me."

Sa'Raah removed his hands. They settled on her shoulders. "I'll do my best."

Sarkhan rested his forehead against hers. "That's all I can ask."

By the time Sa'Raah looked outside of Sarkhan's tent, the sun had begun to go down. "Oh no," she said, staring at the horizon. "The Dromoka don't have good night vision, and I won't get home before sunset."

"You could stay here." Sarkhan stood behind her and slipped an arm around her waist. "Or I could take you home."

Sa'Raah weighed her options. Part of her knew she needed to go home, but she still felt that strange warmth in her stomach. She wanted to stay with Sarkhan, and that feeling was beginning to win out.

"It might be better if I stay," Sa'Raah said.


	36. Chapter 36

Planar Chaos

Ignitions: Spoiled Meat

Jacob Rhyne spent the first ten years of his life as the son of a butcher living on the outskirts of Paliano. They were cheerful years filled with many good memories of father and son working together to parcel the best cuts of meat for the nobility living in the upper city. It was common knowledge that Rhyne's Butcher Shoppe produced the most succulent cuts, sliced with expert mastery to ensure that every bit of flavor was retained and as little blood was lost as possible.

However, one day all that would change. Shortly after Jacob's tenth birthday, his father received an order from a noble house of Paliano from a banquet. The cuts were examined and chosen with great care by the only daughter of that house, a Lady Marchesa. She seemed very pleased with what she saw. Jacob hid behind his father's leather apron while she was in the shop. The boy found the young Lady to be very pretty, which made him nervous.

"I'm very happy I came to you, Mr. Rhyne," Lady Marchesa said. Her rings glittered in the light of the sun that streamed in one of the shop's front windows. "Word of your expertise with a cleaver has reached the tops of High Paliano."

"Your words flatter me, my lady," Mr. Rhyne bowed slightly. "I've worked hard to get to where I am."

"No doubt you have." Jacob didn't like something about Lady Marchesa's smile.

It would only take him a few days to find out why. At a banquet hosted in her lavish home in Paliano's upper city, one of her older brothers was poisoned. It was determined that the source of this poison was the meat Jacob's father supplied.

Jacob hid under the bed when the palace guards came to arrest his father for attempted murder. The clang of their armor rang in his ears. From beneath the bed, Jacob watched in terror as his father was interrogated. 'Interrogation' was a euphemism for what the guards of Paliano did to their targets. Jacob's eyes grew wide as the guards took turns punching his father in the face. A tooth flew out of his mouth, clattering across the floor and sliding under the bed. Jacob instinctively scooted away from it, not wanting to feel the object that would make all of this real.

The guards hauled his father away. Jacob crawled out from under the bed and crept along behind them.

The trial was three days later. Of course, his father was found guilty by the high courts of Paliano. They were always stacked against defendants from the lower city. Jacob felt his face flush with anger. That anger was replaced with a mixture of fear and despair as his father was led to the gallows. The ropes creaked in the light breeze as everyone fell silent. Jacob's eyes were locked not on his father, but on Lady Marchesa and one of her brothers. The brother had a snide look on his pinched, pointed face. The rage returned. He wanted revenge on the man who dared frame his father for murder.

The rope snapped taught and Jacob let out a scream of rage. He started to rush through the crowd towards the vile weasel of a man but everything began to fade away. The world disappeared around him and he was suddenly somewhere else entirely, running headlong through a dark tunnel. Jacob cracked his head against a low hanging ceiling and fell into unconsciousness.

He awoke sometime later in a larger chamber, a bizarre creature with snakes for hair standing over him.

"So," its voice was feminine, "you're awake."

"Where am I?"

"In the lair of the Golgari," she said. "I am Vraska, and you're incredibly lucky that it was I who found you and not something more dangerous. I know what you are, child, and we're not so different. You're not from this world, are you?"

"I remember running through a crowd, and then I was in a tunnel, and," he slowed his speech, reaching up to touch his head. His hand came away covered in flecks of dried blood.

"No need to fear, child," the woman with snake hair said. "I won't let anyone here hurt you."

"I need to go back. That nobleman, he did it. He framed my father for attempted murder!" Jacob jumped up, pushing past the woman.

"You seek revenge?"

"Well yeah!" Jacob looked up at the snake-haired woman like she was silly. "I have to. I have to do it for my father."

"A mere child can't hope to exact their revenge, at least not one so untrained as you. Let me... help you, child. You could learn very much from an accomplished assassin like me."

"You promise you'll help me?"

"I, Vraska the Unseen, will help you learn the ways of life and death with the Golgari so that you may have your revenge on your father's killer." Vraska held up her right hand by way of an oath. "Now, what is your name?"

"Jacob. Jacob Rhyne."

"Well, young Master Rhyne," Vraska chuckled, "welcome to the guild."


	37. Chapter 37

Planar Chaos

Chapter Eight: Wildfire of Fiora

"Rhyne, why did I know I would find you back on Zendikar?" Marthel tilted his head to the side as he stood over where Rhyne was idly poking a small eldrazi with a flaming stick. The creature squealed and writhed, but it was unable to escape. Rhyne's eyes were hollow and bored. The eldrazi's screams came to an end as Rhyne booted it off of the cliff and onto some sharp rocks in the sea below.

"Well it's not hard. Arguably the most powerful beings in the multiverse are bound here. I don't have many other interesting places to go."

"I have a proposition for you," Marthel said with a smirk.

"Is it at the very least stimulating?"

"Well, it involves a get together with me and seven other walkers. After that, I have a sort of surprise planned for us."

"Marthel, you should know by now I have a love-hate relationship with surprises." It was true. Rhyne was intrigued by the idea of surprise, but sometimes it made him angry.

"You'll love this one. Have you ever heard of Xerex?"

"The maze plane?" Rhyne raised one eyebrow and scratched his beard thoughtfully. "I've heard of it, but have never been to it."

"Probably for good reason. Legend has it that an ancient planeswalker named Urza left something in the middle of the maze. I intend for the nine of us to go in and retrieve it. You're the first one I've told. Everyone else seems happy to come along just for the purposes of a party."

"Very well. I'll join. Where are we meeting?"

"Your old home, Ravnica."

"Like you, Marthel, I have no home. The multiverse is my home and I go where its winds take me. If where I end up isn't interesting, I make it interesting."

"So..." Marthel began, "poking an eldrazi is interesting?"

"It makes a nice sound." Rhyne shrugged.

"You'll certainly get along with Ashleigh. Both of you seem to get that whole torture thing." Marthel shuddered theatrically. "Ick."

"It's possible. You've spoken of the Voidcaller before. I haven't come across her in my travels yet."

"That would probably be because for the last few years or so she hasn't gotten out much. I just now was able to get her to leave Innistrad. A well timed angel attack helped."

"I don't fear angels, Marthel, so forgive me for laughing. I devour the likes of them," Rhyne guffawed. "Even so, I don't need allies. Allies are anchors that hold you in one place. They steal your spoils and make you weak."

"Okay. Rinok might be more your speed." Marthel placed a hand on his chin in thought.

"I'll be there, regardless of who shows up," Rhyne said.

Marthel knew when he wasn't welcome. He planeswalked away to find the last guest for his party, the one he least wanted to see.


	38. Chapter 38

Planar Chaos

One Shots: The Grip of the Obzedat Pt. 2

Teysa leaned heavily against Vilhelm, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He knew what she wanted even before she asked.

"I just fed yesterday," Vilhelm said, pushing her away from him gently. He couldn't have her interpret it as a rejection. Teysa had more or less volunteered to be his source of fresh blood. She believed he was slowly turning her into a vampire, the necessity of the pace being so Karlov and the rest of the Obzedat wouldn't notice. It worked well for the both of them. Teysa believed she would be free of the grip of the Obzedat and Vilhelm received a supply of living blood.

It was so much better than the dead blood the guild had been supplying him with. Nevertheless, he still had to find a use for the phials that had been drained from corpses. In his youth Vilhelm had wanted to be something of an artist, before being chosen by one of the three high houses of Innistrad's vampires. He'd found blood to be an agreeable medium, creating lovely moving images by enchanting the stuff.

"Please, Vilhelm?" Teysa reached around to unfasten her collar. Underneath the white fabric was a series of twin pinprick scars from Vilhelm's past feedings. They'd started out as a weekly ritual carried out in the privacy of Teysa's bedchamber, a room the Obzedat and their cronies didn't enter. However, they had graduated to two a week at Teysa's insistence. She craved the feeling, sometimes pulling Vilhelm into unoccupied rooms due to her impatience. In less than a month Teysa had become so much more loyal than Mikael had ever been. She felt the call of the bloodline burning in her veins at all hours of the day and channeled that calling into complete and utter devotion to Vilhelm. She did whatever he asked, whenever he asked it just for the promise that he'd slake his thirst from her veins alone. Becoming a vampire wasn't even at the forefront of the Orzhov scion's mind anymore.

The vampire scowled. Vilhelm and his loyal servant Mikael had been sired by the same vampire and were, in essence, brothers. So much for the call of the bloodline.

"Teysa, I can't right now. You're too weak from yesterday." The previous day Teysa had demanded what would be Vilhelm's third feeding that week. She'd used much the same strategy as she was using now. Vilhelm had to close his eyes to keep from seeing the pounding of her pulse in her veins. His predator's instincts were strong, but he had learned better than to overindulge. The sound of her heartbeat, so fluttery and fragile like a nestling of some songbird, pounded in his ears. He wasn't thirsty, but he could easily feed again.

"Vilhelm please. I need you to do it. Just for a moment." She'd grown bolder since he started feeding on her, and also more petulant. Her mood was directly connected to the amount of time since Vilhelm's fangs last pierced her skin. The Obzedat took no notice, though. To them Teysa had always been a moody, disruptive, nettlesome child.

"Teysa you know it's never 'just for a moment'." Vilhelm held her back at arm's length. "You have to understand that to me you're food. And when a predator has their prey in their grasp they seldom let it go without finishing it. I can't accidentally kill you before the transformation is complete. We can't let it move too fast or Karlov and the others will find out. I can't do it today." He hastily refastened her collar with shaking hands. "We agreed on once per week, then you insisted on two. Occasionally I'll move up to three, but you're asking too much of me."

"You don't want me anymore," she said darkly, moving back and crossing her arms. "Is that it? Do you have someone else?"

"No. That isn't it at all. I just don't want to hurt you." Vilhelm couldn't have his pawn dying in his arms. Not only would the Orzhov guild be without its envoy but then Teysa would hate Vilhelm in the afterlife. She would be forced join the Obzedat, that council which she despised more than anything. Faithful servants were hard to come by. Willing ones were even rarer. Teysa was certainly more loyal to him after only a few weeks than Mikael had ever been before Vilhelm showed him the truth. During their feedings she revealed to him all the secrets of the guild. Anything he asked, she freely answered with the fullest extent of her knowledge.

"There is someone else, isn't there?" Teysa was on the verge of tears. Her voice had risen in volume until it echoed through the abandoned hallway in which they were hiding.

"Shh. Teysa, I promise there is nobody else," Vilhelm whispered. He motioned for her to keep her voice down.

"Liar!" She flung herself at him, lashing out with her long nails. Vilhelm grabbed her wrists in one hand, tossed her off balance, and caught her in a dip that featured prominently in the traditional dances of his home plane. His mouth was dangerously close to her throat. He could smell her blood through the thin, white fabric of her collar. Vilhelm had a brief flash of red blooming up through the silk.

It would be so easy. She'd let herself go limp in his arms, trembling with anticipation.

"Go ahead," she said, closing her eyes. "I know you want to."

Vilhelm felt rather than saw a spirit floating down the hallway. Its mind was just like any mortal's, but at the same time more mysterious. The veil of death masked some of their thoughts.

"And then," Vilhelm said, pulling Teysa back up into something resembling a modified waltz position, "Your partner leads with the left foot and you follow with your right in a sweeping motion."

"What is going on here?" the spirit, Teysa's grandfather Karlov, asked as he crossed his spectral arms.

"Ah, Mr. Karlov," Vilhelm gave the ghost a winning smile. "You no doubt know of the gala taking place in a few weeks. I'm simply helping Ms. Teysa adapt popular styles of dancing to her handicap. It would be most embarrassing for the leader of the Orzhov to be unable to conduct herself on the dance floor, would it not?"

Teysa had stepped away and was blushing in embarrassment, refusing to meet her grandfather's eyes.

"It would be most embarrassing," Karlov assented. "Teysa has done a satisfactory job of representing the will of the Obzedat so far. I am pleased she is taking some initiative to improve her image. That leg of hers makes people think she's weak, that the guild is weak."

"When I'm through with her, nobody will even notice." Vilhelm maintained the smile until Karlov had left the hallway. Teysa sidled up to the vampire, delicately wrapping one of his arms around her waist. She pulled him around to face her with surprising strength, unhooking her collar with one hand. She flung her arms around his neck and once again his mouth was dangerously close to her throat. He felt her burning skin, her erratic pulse, and the deep, shuddering breaths rattling her lungs.

"Teysa, I-" The predator took over.


	39. Chapter 39

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Promises You Don't Know How to Keep

"Kyari watch out!" Brock tackled the elven walker to the ground just as the stream of fire shot towards her. His robes were lightly singed by the marauding cinders who had decided the pair of planeswalkers looked like a decent target for their mayhem. He scooped her up and broke into a run, leaping over the earth with the swiftness of an antelope.

"You could put me down, you know," Kyari shouted above the crashing noises of her hydra following them through the undergrowth.

Brock skidded to a stop as he saw a giant's head rise above the trees. He deposited Kyari on the ground, grabbed her wrist, and broke into a run once more. The hydra, however, couldn't change directions that quickly. It slammed into the giant's leg catching its attention. The giant gave a howl of rage, raising its club to strike the creature that dared injure it.

"Brock wait!" Kyari dragged him to a stop. "We can't leave it!"

"Kyari, I'm more than confident your hydra can take care of itself."

"It's still just a baby," Kyari protested.

"It's twenty feet tall," Brock bellowed.

"Who is the creature expert here?"

"Okay. Fine. Whatever. We'll go back." Brock began his leaping run that all Ojutai monks had to master in order to travel through their mountainous home.

The hydra was locked in battle with the giant, its heads weaving in and out to dodge blows of the giant's club. Kyari gave a sharp whistle and the hydra's heads immediately turned her direction. It started a retreat, but not quickly enough. Kyari rushed forward, narrowly avoiding the giant's feet. She led the hydra away as quickly as she could while Brock engaged the giant.

Flames flickered to life in his hands. He balled them into fists and leapt into the air. He rained a series of blows onto the giant's chest.

"Hey ugly," Brock called up at it once he landed on the ground again. "Your fight's down here."

For the first time in his life, Brock wanted to seriously injure another good being. He could throttle Kyari until her neck snapped if it meant the giant would stop chasing him through the forests of Lorwyn. Brock was running as quickly as he could to keep away from the angry creature. Hopefully he could lose it in the undergrowth.

Brock rolled into a bush. The giant thundered past. Brock took a few moments to catch his breath. Before he could recover, the ground began to shake again. Brock braced himself for the giant's return.

"Well, that was close." Kyari slid down from the back of her hydra. "Are you okay, Brock?"

"Never again." He hadn't left the bush yet.

"Listen," Kyari knelt down to speak to him. "I need to ask you a huge favor."

"If it involves me fighting another giant beast your pet angered, the answer is no."

"No, of course not. Nothing like that. I'm being serious here. If anything happens to me, you need to take the hydra back to Shandalar."

"I need to what?" Brock wasn't sure how Kyari managed to keep the beast under control, let alone how he would do it in her absence.

"If I die, take the hydra back to Shandalar and let it go free."

"Um…"

"Promise me, Brock." Kyari was adamant. She couldn't trust anyone else with her precious baby.

"Okay," he relented. "I'll do it."

Brock resolved to not let anything happen to Kyari so he wouldn't have to deal with that situation.


	40. Chapter 40

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Like Nothing Ever Happened

"H-honey?" Ashleigh softly closed the door to Odom's spacious Ravnica apartment behind her. How long had it been since she'd been here? Two years? Three? Possibly more? The voices pounded against her skull. There were too many people, too much life crammed into this plane. "I'm back."

She received no response. He was probably in the lab. Ashleigh ducked into the bedroom and opened the closet, pleased to find her Izzet and Dimir guild robes still hanging in the back. Her signets and the lantern she'd stolen from the Dimir shortly before first meeting Odom were in the box tucked into the back corner of the closet as well. It felt good to wear them again.

Shortly after what was her second encounter with the planeswalker Brock inside this very apartment, she had come back to visit Odom. Things went how they always did, only this time Ashleigh woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and unable to ignore the cacophony splitting her skull. The voices had been a constant part of her life since she stumbled upon Maralen in Glen Elendra after the Aurora had been dismantled. Nobody she went to had been able to make them stop, so after a while she just started ignoring them. They grew louder on planes with more life and softer on those that were sparsely populated, but always she had been able to push them away.

Not that night. Ashleigh had been consumed with an overwhelming desire to destroy everything around her, starting with the planeswalker sleeping next to her. He was so blissfully unaware that, should Ashleigh finally snap, he was first in the line of fire. It would be so easy.

Except that Ashleigh didn't actually want to kill him. If friendship was measured by who was able to put up with you for the longest, Odom was certainly her only real friend in the multiverse. They had fun together. There was so much they wanted to do, like blow up a plane.

She'd planeswalked away then and there, returning to her dark eyrie on Innistrad where she could at least have some measure of peace and quiet.

Ashleigh changed into her Izzet robes and descended the stairs into the lab. It was apparent Odom wasn't home. The door to the room where he kept Maelstrom Wanderer was open and the elemental was nowhere to be seen. The layout of the lab had changed as well. The incubation chamber had been moved to the center. A series of valves and tubes supplied it with various materials. Two open jars sat on the table next to the chamber. They both contained pieces of bark, one labeled "Me" and the other "Brosephus". A third, closed jar contained what looked like small strips of pale skin, a smaller vial of blood, and a few long hairs. This jar was labeled "Ash".

She had no memory of volunteering the samples to Odom.

There was a rumbling noise from Maelstrom's room. Odom was back, it seemed. The soft, squishing noise of him sliding off of the elemental's back and landing on the ground confirmed this. Ashleigh had the sudden desire to run, to planeswalk away, but getting to Ravnica had been difficult. She could only imagine how hard it would be to get back. The plane hadn't wanted to let her in, but she found a chink in its armor. This same chink had been exploited in the past by one Jace Beleren to escape after being transformed into the embodiment of Ravnica's Guildpact.

The door was opened with a kick and Odom entered the room carrying two rucksacks filled with jars. His arms, all five of them this time, were full as well. They began to magically sort themselves, flying to shelving units that Ashleigh was sure were a new addition.

Thankfully, the magical sorting was finished before Odom noticed her standing there. When he did, three of his arms fell off into puddles of ooze and Ashleigh thought she saw his jaw start to fall off before he reached up to put it back into place with a squelching, cracking noise.

He crossed the room in an instant. Ashleigh was prepared for a fight and took a few steps back in preparation, but instead of striking her he caught her in a bear hug.

"I'm so glad you're back. It's almost finished and it didn't feel right doing it without you." He guided her back to the incubation chamber. The biomass had attained a vaguely oblong shape and Ashleigh could see the beginnings of limbs. "I also need an accomplished electromancer to provide the spark of life. I don't know anyone better than you."

Ashleigh rolled up her sleeves, red lightning crackling around her hands.

"Not yet," Odom stayed her hands. "We have to add the finishing touches."

The contents of every jar in the room were dumped into one of the vats connected to the chamber through a series of tubes, including the jars containing the samples from Odom and Ashleigh. The biological material was quickly dissolved into a green liquid. Odom flipped a switch and Ashleigh watched in awe as the dissolved biomass was pumped through the tubes.

"I asked a few favors and got what's left of the research notes from Experiment One. There wasn't a lot. Zegana ordered most of it destroyed, but there were a few pages that survived. From there is was improvisation. I wasn't a huge part of it, but I did do some work on the tentacles. See?" Odom indicated a few serpentine appendages through the glass of the incubation chamber.

Ashleigh nodded. "So how long do we wait before I shock it?"

"Not long now. Give it about twenty-four hours."

"What can we do for the next twenty-four hours?"

"I have a few ideas." Odom smirked.

"Dammit you shot down my legionnaire!" Ashleigh crossed her arms and pouted at the red and white pieces on her game board. "We agreed, casual telepathy is against the rules."

"What? You totally read my mind to see where I had my corpsejack positioned." Odom looked to the side where the discarded black and green game piece lay on the floor next to him.

"Maelstrom is helping you cheat, isn't he?" Ashleigh stabbed an accusatory finger at the massive elemental towering above where they sat cross-legged on the floor. Maelstrom let out a low rumble of indignation.

"Shh, it's okay Maelstrom, she's just being salty." Odom patted one of the elemental's treelike limbs. "Okay. Do you at least admit I'm better at Guild Battle?"

"No. Because you picked the most overpowered guild ever. You can get your dead things back. We both need to play fair guilds."

"Ash, we've played every possible combination of guilds. I've won two-thirds of the time."

Before Ashleigh could retort, a chime went off in the other room.

"It's ready!" Odom jumped up, scattering the boards and game pieces. Ashleigh scrambled after him. They stood close together with their arms around each other, staring into the incubation chamber. The creature within was fully formed. Its protruding eyes remained closed. Its mouth vaguely resembled a beak and there were noticeable nubs on its back that would hopefully develop into wings. It sported fur on its back, a feathered crest, and scaly limbs. Its stomach, however, was completely see-through, exposing the complex organ systems it had taken Odom the last three years to perfect with other experiments sold to the Simic for materials. He'd been able to awake those prototypes with his own weak electromancy, but for this being he'd settle for none other than Ashleigh's.

"Now?" Ashleigh looked up at him eagerly.

"Now." He nodded, then made sure to take several large steps back so that he was directly behind Ashleigh. Odom had learned from experience that the Voidcaller had two modes of operating: eerily quiet or amazingly destructive. Behind her was honestly the safest place in the room.

Red lightning began to crackle and spark around her fingers and her hair stood on end. Electricity arced from her hands into the incubation chamber in a steady, erratic stream. Occasionally forks would split off and strike random objects around the room, blowing them up in a fountain of sparks.

"We're going to need more than that," Odom said.

"I don't think I can give any more," Ashleigh replied. Her breathing had become ragged. The sweat that had moments earlier just been small beads on her brow poured down the back of her neck in an icy river. Her knees began to shake. In her mind the voices shrieked and moaned. She had to shut them out or she couldn't concentrate on the spell. The lightning began to falter.

No. She would bring this creature to life. It would be the key to her designs. It would grant her the blissful peace of silence.

Ashleigh forced out one last burst of energy and collapsed into a heap on the floor. Odom held his breath, his eyes not on his friend but their creation. For a time, nothing happened. Then a single tentacle twitched. Slowly, the creature wiggled to life. A sharp cry pierced the lab's silence.

Odom saw a blur of red and blue. Ashleigh had stood and rushed to the incubation chamber. She picked up the creature within and cradled it like one would hold an infant. It looked up at her with impossibly large black eyes. Odom moved closer, looking over Ashleigh's shoulder at the abomination in her arms.

"It's perfect," Ashleigh said breathlessly.

Odom wasn't sold on that assessment yet. They would have to see what happened when it was released on a plane to fend for itself. The perfect creature would be capable of defeating all others, it would also learn to call Odom its master. "We'll have to see."

"Odom," Ashleigh said, "you don't understand. I can't hear them anymore."

He knew what she meant. Somehow, possibly due to the bits of eldrazi Odom had used in the creature's creation, this abomination's presence was able to cancel out the voices Ashleigh had heard ever since Maralen dismantled the Great Aurora on Lorwyn. This was an interesting development, but also incredibly dangerous. She'd likely do anything to keep possession of the creature. Odom couldn't easily take her in a fight, either. His duplication magic and her tendency of "borrowing" almost canceled each other out perfectly. They'd sit there at a stalemate, and that was no way for their creation to see its creators behaving.

As if she'd heard every thought, which wasn't impossible but just highly unlikely, Ashleigh said "It's my precious little baby."

All it took was for Odom to meet the creature's soulless black eyes to agree with that assessment. " _Our_ precious little baby."


	41. Chapter 41

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Son and Moonfolk

Brock landed with a thud in the middle of a gloomy forest. His feet sank into the soft earth, making a squelching noise every time he took a step forward. He'd never been to this plane before, but based on the clothing his quarry tended to favor Brock knew his monk's robes would be out of place. He reached into a rucksack and ducked behind a tree to change into something more appropriate for Innistrad.

He opted for one of the ensembles he'd purchased on Fiora and a leather coat with a high collar. He still felt something was missing, but couldn't figure out what. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and set off in a direction he hoped was right.

Along the road, Brock passed several men wearing triangular hats. It dawned upon him that this was what he felt was missing from his disguise. His bald head gleamed like a beacon in the moonlight. He glanced up at the silver sphere hanging in the sky. A heron silently judged him, finding his presence both unwelcome and bothersome. There was something strange about the moon here, something that Brock thought might be contributing to the Voidcaller's lunacy. He discovered a discarded hat on the side of the road and scooped it up with a fluid motion, plopping it onto his head. It was damp from rain and dew, but it would at least keep the blasted bird in the moon from staring at him while he walked.

It was a very different variety of lunar being that watched Brock's slow progress in the opposite direction of where he intended to go. A white face framed by long rabbitlike ears ghosted along behind him. Tamiyo normally refused to deal with other planeswalkers, but this one was incredibly familiar to her. He'd sat at her feet as a child and listened to her stories as eagerly as her own children. She even recalled a time when she'd found him with a brush and inkpot drawing markings on his face in a similar pattern to those adorning her own. The Moon Sage of Kamigawa hadn't understood why her people would take an interest in a human orphan, but now it was apparent that the latent abilities of his spark had been what prompted their interference in his life.

Tamiyo unfurled one of her scrolls, letting the magic of the story cloak her once more. If Brock was going to see her, he would have to be more vigilant.

Brock walked on for another two miles before he became aware of a presence hounding his steps. He cast a glance over his shoulder and saw nothing. This scared him more than seeing one of the ghostly spirits that were common to the Multiverse. Brock took another few steps before suddenly wheeling around with his hands ablaze.

"Why am I not surprised you picked up pyromancy, of all things?" A disembodied voice Brock thought he recalled from his childhood said into the silent Innistrad night.

"Show yourself or you'll see just how much I've picked up," Brock threatened. The voice might be familiar, but it could have just as easily been an illusion designed to throw him off guard. He was in territory unfamiliar to himself, but that his adversary called home. She had the upper hand.

"I see you haven't abandoned your human nature," the voice said. "Very well." The magic dissipated and Tamiyo showed herself.

"Tamiyo?" Brock's jaw dropped. He felt a powerful surge of happiness well up from his stomach. "So this is where you went whenever you would disappear."

"It's true, I am a planeswalker."

"Why did you lie to us, then? Couldn't your own children have known?"

"You disguise yourself right now."

"Only because I don't want to frighten the locals."

"Neither do I. Could you imagine the chaos that would have erupted if the Soratami knew the true secrets of the mirrors?" Tamiyo's expression remained neutral. Brock didn't think he'd ever seen her genuinely smile. "Sometimes stories should remain untold." She instinctively put a hand to one of the iron bound scrolls tied to her waist.

"But you couldn't tell your children?"

"You speak as though you are one of them. I can assure you that isn't the case. You, Brock, were raised by the Soratami, but you were never one of us."

"Not a day goes by I don't forget that, Tamiyo. But you haven't answered my question. I may not be your child, I may not be anyone's child, but the fact remains that you lied to them."

"Truth is the best deception, Brock. Do you not remember the story of the Akki and the Oni? The clever Akki hid in plain sight, but their deceptions were what resulted in their downfall."

"I prefer the story of the fire mage from a clockwork world who caused trouble because of her powers. She grew up far away from her home and became a hero."

Tamiyo wasn't familiar with that story and made a mental note to catalog it at a later date. "Heroes are just disasters waiting to happen, Brock. I certainly hope you haven't chosen that path for yourself. As planeswalkers it is our duty to collect and preserve the truth. We do not interfere."

Brock turned his back to Tamiyo. "I was happy to see you, you know. You could at least be happy to see me."

"It is true that seeing a familiar face was a pleasant surprise. I have not been able to return to Kamigawa in some time. Have you?"

"I studied under a dragon on a plane called Tarkir for several years, then I honed my pyromancy skills on Regatha in Keral Keep under the Abbot, Chandra Nalaar. I've made some friends and been roped into a few adventures. I have not been back to Kamigawa yet."

Tamiyo readied a blank scroll and an ink brush. "Would you mind telling me how it happened?"

Brock turned back to face the moonfolk. "An Akki broke into the Oboro Palace and attempted to make off with Meloku's pearl. I ran into him in the hallway and he created a duplicate of me to try and frame me. I destroyed the duplicate and the last thing I heard before waking up on Tarkir was a mirror shattering."

"Interesting. What would you say is the essence of this story?"

"Simply put? Don't try to be something you aren't. I'm not of the Soratami, Tamiyo, I've accepted that. But you know what I am? I'm a planeswalker and it's my duty to preserve the Multiverse for future planeswalkers. It's my job to protect this wonderful world that's been opened up to people like you and me."

"So that brings you to Innistrad?"

"I'm looking for a woman who calls herself 'The Voidcaller'."

Tamiyo's expression of mild curiosity twisted into a frown. "If you want to find her, you'll need to go towards Nephalia, back that way." She pointed back the way he had come.

"Dammit!" Brock cursed.

"I don't advocate paying her a visit, Brock."

"You never advocated doing anything at all," he shot back. "If it had been you instead of me there that day you'd have let the Akki steal the pearl."

Tamiyo frowned. "That's not true."

"Is it? Here's a story for you, a Soratami gained access to untold knowledge and power. She would disappear from home for lengths of time to gather her secrets into a hoard that only she could touch, meanwhile never using the power with which she had been gifted. She told snippets of these stories to her friends and family, but never would tell them the whole truth nor of how she could have averted the disasters in her tales by lifting even one finger. One day, someone else found out about this trove of knowledge and confronted the Soratami about how she had selfishly kept it all for herself. The Soratami was completely unashamed of her deception and inaction. How would you think this story would end? Because I see the Soratami being alienated from the rest of her people for refusing to share her knowledge or helping those in need with her power."

"You learned nothing from us, I see." Tamiyo narrowed her eyes. "I suppose all our care and nurturing came to naught. You still refuse to think logically."

"I'm being logical, Tamiyo. What I'm not being is cold. That's your weakness. You're cold and distant, just like that moon." Brock looked up at the silver heron's accusatory eye. "You can't hide from doing the right thing forever."

Brock brushed past the Soratami, trudging back the way he had come and wishing he could have borrowed Kyari's hydra to make the journey go by a little more quickly.


	42. Chapter 42

Planar Chaos

One Shots: The Lady of the Dark Realms

Ashleigh stared up at Liliana Vess from her back. She tried to think through the buzzing in her skull, the incessant voices that never would leave her alone. She'd come here to the lair of the Lady of the Dark Realms to do something. To ask for something. She couldn't remember what, though.

A series of images flashed through her mind. Maralen on Oona's throne, the broken bodies of the Vendilion clique, the darkness of true night that she had feared so much.

"What would you have me do with you, mortal?" Liliana asked. Her voice sounded like the purr of some great cat, but filled with more malice than Ashleigh could fathom at the moment.

"Make it stop," Ashleigh sobbed. She didn't know when she'd started crying. The necromancer's ambush had caught the former cultist off her guard, but the impact of the cold stone floor shouldn't have made her cry.

"What?" Liliana took a step back, her hand resting habitually on the satchel at her side containing the Chain Veil. She heard the voices of the dead whispering to her, begging her to take the girl's life when it was offered so freely. "What are you asking me, child?"

"They never leave me alone. They don't ever shut up. I can't think. I can't sleep. I can't do anything until they set me free, but they'll never set me free. She made sure of that when she brought back the night." Ashleigh heard herself babbling. She couldn't control what was tumbling from her mouth. The glass had been knocked over and words spilled out like rich red wine.

Liliana willed herself another step back from the girl in the ragged red cloak. "You sacrificed your sanity to the demons, child. There is nothing I can do to help."

"Not demons. I don't fear the demons. They don't bother with me. This was far far away, on a world of long days and twilights where night never touched the land."

Liliana had been to such a place. Lorwyn, or Shadowmoor as it was sometimes called during its dark times, was a world of magic. "You're a planeswalker?"

"I fell through the caves beneath the sulfur falls into a clearing. The fairies led me to their queen. I fought for her. So many of us died for her. Then the voices began. They never ever stop." Ashleigh rolled back and forth on the ground, clutching her ears.

Instead of blasting the pitiful girl with a bolt of necromantic energy, Liliana knelt down by her side. The whispering of the veil grew louder, begging her to go in for a kill. "What are these voices?"

"I wish I knew..."

Liliana cursed to herself. Where was Beleren when she needed him? He could easily look inside the girl's mind and figure out what these voices were. The telepathic prodigy loved a good mystery, and it seemed like this young planeswalker contained plenty of those. Liliana stretched out one hand, glancing over her shoulder at the Raven Man. He had been unusually quiet throughout the entire exchange. All he did was nod his permission.

She touched the young planeswalker's temple gently. The methods of searching minds that were available to her magic were less than pleasant. An ear shattering scream erupted from somewhere deep inside the girl's body. She began to sweat and shake. Liliana took her hand away, disturbed by what she had seen. It wasn't a curse or an uncontrolled talent. This girl's mind had come undone by some sort of deep emotional trauma.

"You hear them too..." the girl's face broke into a deranged smile.

"I hear the voices of the dead, child," Liliana corrected. "You hear the living."

"When I'm alone they're quieter."

"They shouldn't be as loud if you are on a plane with little life. Isolation is the key to their silence."

"Be by myself? Forever?"

That seemed to make the girl even more terrified. Liliana shifted her approach. "Not alone, just away from others. Certainly away from me. You cross my path again, I won't be able to be so merciful."

Ashleigh found her way to the cathedral sometime after that. Her red cloak was tattered and torn. She needed something more suitable for what she was. A shop provided her with a wine colored velvet gown and some costume jewelery that was all the rage among the human nobility that were too poor to afford the real things sported by vampires.

Inside the cathedral was run down. There hadn't been a service there for at least two decades. Ashleigh raided the remaining wardrobes of the clergy, finding a long bolt of cloth. She could certainly use that to cover up the massive collar of Avacyn decorating one wall. She had no need to invoke the angels and doubted that they would heed the call of a heretic and demon cultist.

It might be nice to have some sort of help, though. She drew out the familiar runes on some bare earth and began a short chant. Soon, a small red imp crawled out of the ground.

"We heard your call, mistress. What would you ask of us? What would you give us in return?"

"I would have your service, and in return provide you with lodging and freedom."

The imp's jaw dropped. "Mistress is generous for giving so much."

"Do you accept?"

"Of course! What would mistress have me do?"

"Well I suppose the floor could use a good sweeping."

The imp materialized a broom and set to work.


	43. Chapter 43

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Served Hot

He trained with Vraska for ten years before she told him he was ready.

"Rhyne," the gorgon said, careful to look slightly above her pupil's head and at a dagger mounted on the wall, "the time has come for you to return to Fiora."

"Finally," Rhyne groaned.

"You've learned much, but you still need to improve your patience. I trained you for so many years because I had to make sure you were ready for this. Taking a life is no laughing matter. Our targets and methods have to send a message. Go over your plan with me once more."

"I sneak into his house under the guise of a new cook and poison his food," Rhyne recited mechanically. It wasn't the plan he wanted. He wanted a spectacle, to bathe in the blood of his father's murderer.

"Excellent. Now go."

Rhyne landed in a back alley on Fiora. His wild hair and beard had been tamed for the time being. He needed to present as a functional member of society and not as some wild man who had lived underground with zombies, rot farmers, and gorgons for ten years. He snaked his way through the familiar streets, searching for some landmark lost to his memory.

Another hanging was taking place in the square, once again presided over by the brother of Lady Marchesa, the one who had accused Rhyne's father of attempted murder and ordered his execution. Rhyne felt something welling up inside him. A burning rage started to consume him, putting him at the limits of his self control.

Vraska's hissing voice came back to him. "Revenge, Rhyne, is a dish best served cold. You must calculate the precise way to make your target suffer as you have suffered. In this suffering we can find our true pleasure."

Vraska's ideas of suffering had always been lackluster to Rhyne. He longed for people to burn, to die in physical pain rather than understanding his own emotional pain. He wanted their deaths, not their remorse. The man on that podium had ten years to express remorse, but he hadn't. Here he was, reveling in another death.

Rhyne's hands caught fire with the power of his rage. Thatched roofs around the square began to blaze. This was an aspect of him Vraska had never trained. Fire had no place in dealing death. It couldn't be controlled. It drew too much attention. But this was what Rhyne wanted. This was the way he wanted the man who killed his father to die.

The fire was whipped into something resembling a waterspout and began to tear its way through the crowd towards the terror-stricken form of Rhyne's target. Rhyne himself began to cackle maniacally. The hot wind swirled around him, pulling more fuel into his wildfire. The orange flames licked at the body of Rhyne's enemy, turning it black and shriveled as the screams ceased. His task completed, Rhyne found himself unexpectedly bored. He planeswalked somewhere, to where he didn't know.


	44. Chapter 44

Planar Chaos

Chapter Nine: The Last on the List

Marthel finally had no other choice. With Nadia at his side, he approached the high rise he knew to be the home of the other Maelstrom Mage, Odom the Duplicant. He keyed in the unit number on the pad by the door and rang the bell, hoping Odom wouldn't be home.

"Who is it?" It wasn't Odom's voice, but Ashleigh's. She'd apparently made a beeline for her not-quite-boyfriend's home after she and Marthel had parted ways on Mercadia.

"Ash, it's me." Marthel waited for a response.

"Who is it, dear?"

"It's Marthel. He's probably here to see you."

"Why in the name of Rakdos is he here?"

"Probably to invite you to the thing."

"What thing?"

"He didn't say. It's just a thing."

"And you couldn't have told me this sooner?"

"Well we were busy with the baby."

Baby? How long had Marthel taken to find Odom?

"I swear to the Firemind, woman, you're going to be the death of me. Come on up, Marthel."

The main door unlocked and Marthel soon found himself on a very awkward elevator ride with a pair of goblins who seemed to be ardently making out in the corner. Either that or they were trying to kill each other with their teeth.

"Could you please stop sinning," Marthel muttered under his breath. Nadia merely arched one eyebrow at him.

"This is what you call sinning? I'm not even sure what to think of this."

Mercifully the elevator stopped on their floor before the goblins could retort. Marthel and Nadia ducked out swiftly and headed towards the corner of the building. A door bearing the number 545 in gold lettering and a complex mathematical expression burned into the door around it swung inward at their approach.

Odom shouted up from the lab that had once been apartment 445 "If you're with the Orzhov, Dimir, Boros, or Azorius, I didn't do anything and I don't want any."

A loud rumbling came from the space that had been apartment 444. "If you're still there, I have an elemental and I am not afraid to use it."

"Odom, it's me." Marthel crossed his arms and waited for the reply.

"Oh. Sorry. It's a habit. One of those scumlords is over here ever single week. They're almost as bad as the Jehovah's witnesses. I don't want to find Jesus. I'm sure he's hiding for a reason and I don't want to be part of their scavenger hunt."

"Who now?" Marthel was both confused and concerned for Odom's sanity.

"Never mind that," Ashleigh interrupted their conversation. "Do you want to come see the baby?"

"Ashleigh, we agreed to wait until everyone was here to unveil our wonderful creation."

"All I want to know," Marthel called down, "is if you two want to come to Xerex with me to try to get to the center of the maze. Legend says Urza left something down there."

Odom was immediately standing in uncomfortable proximity to Marthel. "Urza? Materials? Research? In the maze? I'm in."

"That's all I needed to know. Now are you two going to let me know anything about this 'baby' of yours? How long was I gone, exactly? How long has Ashleigh been here?"

"Maybe a few weeks."

"And she gestated a fetus that quickly?"

"Of course not. I might be one of the more brilliant minds the Simic Combine has ever known, but I'm not that good."

"Then..." Marthel quickly decided to drop the subject. "I take it you'll want us all to meet up here?"

"I don't see why not. I do have the largest residence among all of us, especially after what you did to Ashleigh's cathedral. Entreating the angels was a bad idea given her line of work."

"Demon calling is rather frowned upon on Innistrad, I'll give you that."

"So when can we expect everyone to arrive?"

"Within the next few weeks," Marthel said.

Nadia had been silent this whole time, staring intently down the hallway that led to the staircase and the labs below. "She cares for the creature, doesn't she?"

"Who? Ash?" Odom scratched his head. "Well, of course she does. She won't let it out of her sight."

A haunting lullaby floated up from the lower floor. Nadia and Marthel shivered, but Odom started humming along.

"We'll get the house ready, just bring everyone by whenever."

Marthel exited the apartment, Nadia following close behind him.

"I'm not so sure about whatever creature they've got down there." Nadia glanced over her shoulder.

"Well Maelstrom Wanderer certainly is formidable. I don't know how Odom keeps it inside an apartment."

"Not the elemental, the being they created. It seems wrong. Unnatural."

"Odom deals in unnatural beings, Nadia. That's what the Simic guild does. They create life that's an amalgamation of creatures."

"That, Jace Marthel, would be what I call a sin."


	45. Chapter 45

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Going Soft

Rinok didn't bother announcing his presence to Sarkhan Vol. He pushed aside the tent flap and kept his weapon drawn. The other planeswalker turned around and what had been a look of excitement turned to confusion.

"Rinok?"

"You seem surprised to see me, brother." Rinok was puzzled. Why did Sarkhan not draw his own weapon? Why was the former Mardu warrior out in the deserts of Tarkir alone? Sarkhan had worn an almost happy expression for a moment. Was he expecting company?

"I haven't seen you for some time, Rinok. Not since that day on Muraganda."

"Yes. If I remember correctly, you were seeking dragons. I was seeking beasts to carry my siege weapons across the planes. I'm glad to see you found what you were looking for."

"All this is because of me." Sarkhan gestured to the sky. Outside the tent the dragons of Dromoka's brood patrolled the desert.

"What do you mean?"

"I found my way back in time with the aid of Ugin. I prevented his death, and I woke up on this Tarkir. I have no clan. The Mardu don't exist anymore. Nobody remembers what I did."

"It was certainly an impressive feat. Could you teach me that spell, by the way? A giant flame dragon erupting from my chest would be an excellent beginning to a battle." Rinok rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We could restart the wars, you know. Not humans against dragons, but perhaps dragonlord against dragonlord. I made an attempt before with Zurgo. I showed him what he once was, what he could be again."

"I'd tell you but I don't remember it," Sarkhan lied. "As for restarting the wars, I think I prefer this uneasy peace. Tarkir needs a steward while Ugin is away. It has fallen to me. I can command the attention of both humans and dragons if I wish."

"You sound like this whelp I battled some months ago. She's going about the multiverse trying to unite the dragons or some such nonsense. She'd try to create a lasting peace, but I've seen her heart. In it there is only war. She's really quite a stupid little girl, calling herself the daughter of Dromoka or something."

Sarkhan's hand, now more like a dragon's claw in appearance, was at Rinok's throat in an instant. "Don't you dare speak of Sa'Raah that way in my presence," he snarled.

Rinok pried Sarkhan's hand away, tossing the shorter man aside. "I don't believe it," Rinok said, a hint of sarcastic awe creeping into his voice. "The mighty Sarkhan Vol, a dragon among men, has gone soft over a woman. I'll have to find a way to reignite that fire of yours, brother."

"I am not your brother." Sarkhan stood back up, staring deep into Rinok's black eyes and willing him to leave.

"Not by blood, no, but certainly my brother in arms."

There was a rustling outside of the tent. A high, clear voice called up into the sky "Arashi, I'll only be a little while. Tell mother you'll be back to escort me home in a couple of hours."

Sarkhan's face fell at the exact moment Rinok's broke into a smile.

Sa'Raah had only taken a few steps towards the tent when a large red dragon, the same one that had carried her home when she first met Sarkhan Vol, rip its way out of the structure and catapult itself into the sky. She locked eyes with it and started running towards it.

Rinok, meanwhile, was attempting to extricate himself from the collapsed tent. "You can't protect her forever, Sarkhan! One day I'll see that warrior's spirit awoken once more!" Rinok laughed, a low, cackling laugh that sent shivers down Sa'Raah's spine. Sarkhan dipped down and grabbed Sa'Raah up in his foreclaws. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs squeezed his sides just below the wing joints.

"Sarkhan," Sa'Raah cried above the wind rushing through her ears, "what happened? Who was that?"

"Rinok."

"What was he doing here?" Sa'Raah could hear Sarkhan's heart hammering in his chest. It had nothing to do with her added weight, he'd carried her easily enough on previous occasions.

"Doing what he always does, trying to start a war."

The low rumble of his dragon voice was comforting to Sa'Raah. She glanced at the ground and saw desert giving way to forests. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere relatively safe."

"Arashi is coming back for me, though."

"I'm sure he'll understand."

They flew for what seemed like hours. Finally once the sun set they touched down near what appeared to be no more than a small cave. A small pile of animal skins covered the floor. Sa'Raah dropped down to the stone as Sarkhan collapsed onto the furs, regaining his human shape. Sa'Raah knelt down next to him.

"Sarkhan, tell me the truth. What was Rinok doing here?"

Sarkhan looked up at Sa'Raah and caught her in an embrace, pulling her down onto the furs next to him. One hand began to tenderly stroke the scales above her right ear. "Trying to start another war, and to get me involved this time. But I don't want to do that anymore."

"What do you want to do?" Sa'Raah breathed.

"For starters I'd like to finally answer the question of just how far these scales go."

"How was he going to get you involved in a war? Tarkir has known peace for centuries now. Soon the multiverse will know it as well." Sa'Raah struggled to keep herself calm. Sarkhan's eyes seemed to glow.

"He thinks I've gone soft because of you." Sarkhan glanced away as he said it.

Sa'Raah didn't know how to reply. She wanted things with Sarkhan to be more than what they were already, but she didn't think they were that much more so quickly. Mother would want her to be patient, but Aunt Atarka's clan had taught Sa'Raah much about living in the now. Right now she wanted Sarkhan to be able to answer his question.

"It's not that I don't think you can take care of yourself. These," he indicated her scales, "prove that you are more than capable. Just, try to avoid him, please? I can't stand the thought of what he would do to something as beautiful as you are." Sarkhan pulled Sa'Raah closer. "Maybe he's right. Maybe I have gone soft."

"I highly doubt that," Sa'Raah chuckled.

Sarkhan let out an exasperated sigh. "Woman..." He closed the space between them.

Sa'Raah broke the kiss. "I need to tell you something."

"You lay eggs?" Sarkhan gave her a lopsided smile.

"No, of course not." Sa'Raah grew serious. "I'm going to be leaving again soon. I don't know how long I'll be away."

"We'd better make the most of this, then."


	46. Chapter 46

Planar Chaos

One Shots: There Can Be Only One!

Brock was meditating peacefully. The fish swimming in their sphere of water beneath him mirrored the calmness of his mind. He'd lost track of the amount of time he'd spent in his meditation realm, he'd also lost count of how many times he restarted counting his breaths.

There was a ripple in the water and the fish darted in opposite directions. Brock opened one eye, annoyed and expecting to see Marthel standing in front of him. He opened both eyes in alarm. Floating half an inch above the water's surface was what appeared to be a copy of himself. Brock attempted to dismiss the illusion. Someone was disturbing his meditation, and he aimed to find which of the planeswalkers it was.

Kyari knew better, certainly. Marthel might be the source of the illusion, which Brock was having a difficult time dissipating, but from what Brock knew Marthel was off somewhere else. It might be the Voidcaller trying to bait Brock into a battle. At that thought his hands flared to life. He stood up on his stone and faced the copy, burning palms facing towards it.

"That's hardly necessary," the copy Brock said.

"What are you?" Brock asked it.

"Well I'm you, of course."

"No. I'm me. You've got to be something else." Brock's mind found its way back to the Oboro Palace all those years ago when an akki had conjured a copy to try and frame Brock for the theft of Meloku's pearl.

"Well I look like you," the copy said. "And I sound like you."

"Tell me something only I would know," Brock growled.

"You're secretly trying to achieve immortality so you can be the eternal protector of the multiverse."

It wasn't untrue, but it was also common knowledge among friends. Brock did keep a small collection of elixirs and other artifacts to help extend his life. Sometimes Marthel would bring him new ones from far off planes.

"Okay. I'll give you that, but I know there are others who know that. So who's in control of you? Kyari? Marthel? Odom?"

"Ding ding ding!" The copy smiled brightly as its features morphed back into those of Odom. "We have a winner."

Brock lowered his hands. "What purpose did you have for doing this?"

"I just wanted to have some fun. I know you're particular about copying things, now I see just how particular." Odom stretched his arms out, scratching absentmindedly at the bark covering one of them. Bits fell into the water and were investigated by the fish.

"I am certainly particular," Brock rubbed his temples. "Do you just go around copying people for fun? Do you have any idea what it could do to my reputation?"

"I don't go other places as other people. I don't have anything to hide." Odom appeared taken aback by the suggestion.

"Then where's the Voidcaller? I know you're harboring her somewhere."

Odom sighed. "I haven't seen or heard from her in over a year. Thank you, by the way, for scaring my girlfriend off with your death threats. It's very kind and compassionate of you, Superman."

"What did you call me?"

"Superman. Raised among another race, possesses incredible powers because of it, wants to be a hero. You know what, nevermind. It's too complicated a reference to explain to you."

"I'm still not sure I understand what you're getting at."

"I just wanted to drop in and check on you. I'm working on something pretty big, so I don't have a lot of time.

"Working on something?" Brock raised one eyebrow.

"It's sort of a present for when Ashleigh gets back. Kind of. I've been working on creating the perfect being. I think I'm getting close."

"And this is a present for Ashleigh because?"

"Well," Odom smiled sheepishly, "I'm not the strongest electromancer. She's got to be the one to shock this baby to life."

"If you find her, would you tell me where she is?" Brock asked, almost certain he knew the answer.

"Of course not. I don't need you two tearing up my lab and upsetting my Brotato Chip."

Brock recalled the massive elemental Odom somehow had managed to fit into an apartment building. He rolled his eyes. His visits to Ravnica had taught him one thing about the Izzet mages. They did the impossible and didn't know how it worked half the time, only that it did. Brock would have to examine the room in which Maelstrom Wanderer was kept to discover if there were any enchantments either on the creature itself or the room that made lodging it possible.

"Can I at least take a look at this creature you're making?"

"No!" Odom's eyebrows flew into his hairline and then snapped back into place, wiggling slightly. "It's not ready yet. Only when it's ready. I never show off my unfinished work."

"When do you expect it to be finished."

"Whenever it gets done." Odom planeswalked away, leaving Brock to meditate once more.


	47. Chapter 47

Planar Chaos

Chapter Ten: Uninvited Guests Pt 2

Marthel bumped into a vampire on his way out of Odom's apartment complex. The vampire was carrying a covered canvas under one arm and what appeared to be a handful of paintbrushes in his other hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the vampire said, stepping to the side to allow Marthel and Nadia to pass. Marthel noted the Orzhov signet holding the man's ascot in place.

"No, I'm sorry," Marthel said. He smiled apologetically, an expression mirrored by the Orzhov vampire.

"I really should be the one apologizing, I got some of my paint on your nice white cloak."

Marthel looked down to see a large red smudge on his cloak. Nadia was visibly bristling, her feathers fluffing up. "Oh," Marthel said. "I'm sure it's no big deal."

"Well, I do paint in blood," the vampire said nervously. "Would you like to see?"

"Um..." Marthel wasn't entirely certain he wanted to see the paintings. He'd had plenty of experience with other blood artists and they were less inclined to creativity and more attracted to the sadistic.

The vampire whipped the cover off of his canvas to reveal a beautifully detailed drake that was actually flying through the sky. The picture moved. Marthel had to do a double take and rub his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"That's impressive," Marthel said. He then realized that drake wasn't native to Ravnica.

"Even more impressive is just how far I had to go to find the subject of this piece." The vampire looked smug.

"I'd imagine it was found on Shandalar?" Marthel cocked one eyebrow, gauging the vampire's reaction.

"Okay. You caught me. I'm a planeswalker."

Marthel smiled. "It's okay, so am I. Plane of origin?"

"Innistrad. I'm a former Lieutenant of the Falkenrath's military arm. Now I work for the Orzhov as a debt collector to help finance my art career."

"I know another walker from Innistrad. Perhaps you've heard of an Ashleigh, sometimes she calls herself the Voidcaller?"

The vampire thought for a moment. "No, can't say I have." He tucked his brushes into his breast pocket and held out his hand. "I'm Vilhelm, by the way. Pleased to meet you...?"

"Marthel, formerly of Bant. But now the multiverse is my home." Marthel shook Vilhelm's hand, oblivious to Nadia's jumpiness at him doing so. The angel's hand hadn't left the hilt of her sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. "Say," Marthel continued, "some friends of mine are going to be having a get together in this building here in a little while, would you like to join us? One can't have too many allies in the multiverse."

"That sounds just splendid. If you should ever need to contact me, you can find me with the Orzhov. I live in their on site housing."

"I have to say, it's still weird seeing vampires working with the Orzhov. The ghost council probably can't stand you."

"Lady Teysa put in a good word for me." Vilhelm gave Marthel the most genuine smile he'd ever seen.

"Look for my letter, then. I'll send it by courier when we have a more solid date set down."

Marthel and Vilhelm parted ways. As soon as the walker in white and his angel companion were out of both earshot and sight, Vilhelm's expression darkened.

"You played right into my trap, Maelstrom Mage. Soon you and your friends will bow to my great vision, assuming I leave you alive to see it."


	48. Chapter 48

Planar Chaos

Chapter 11: Alexiona

Marthel closed the door behind him and made sure to lock it. His own apartment on Ravnica was only a few blocks from Odom's, but that was hardly common knowledge to his friends. He'd done a lot of running around for the last few weeks and felt like resting.

Resting didn't happen. Instead, he found Kyari Alexiona sitting in his comfy chair, a miniaturized version of her hydra sitting in her lap.

"Hello, Marthel." She petted the hydra in a manner that made Marthel incredibly afraid.

"Oh, Kyari, hi. How've you been? You're not still mad about that whole thing on Equilor, are you?"

"I've been well. I'm not too mad, either." Her voice was even and calm. Marthel was beginning to be very afraid.

"That's great. I've been doing fine. I just got back from seeing Odom. Ashleigh's with him. Have you two met? Nadia, Nadia put the sword down. Now's not the time." He turned his back to Kyari in order to calm the angel.

"Now is a perfect time. This woman has infiltrated our base of operations."

"Kyari's a friend, Nadia."

"And I suppose the vampire and the abomination that other planeswalker has created are friends too?"

"Abomination?" Kyari sat up. "So Odom finally did it? He made his masterpiece?"

"That seems to be the case," Marthel said over his shoulder. "He needed Ashleigh to do it, though."

"We've met in passing, but I've never actually gotten to know her. Brock doens't like her very much." Kyari chuckled. "I suppose it's because they tried to kill each other at their first meeting. Anyway, I met a new walker you should probably go find, her name is Sa'Raah."

"Oh, I ran into her looking for you on Shandalar. She seemed excited to meet more walkers, and she wanted to beg an audience with Niv Mizzet. The only people I know who has been able to regularly secure audiences with the Firemind are Ral Zarek, Odom, and Ral's boytoy in blue." Marthel snickered.

"Are they actually a thing? I thought they weren't, what with Emmara and the maze, and I'm almost certain he hooked up with Liliana Vess a while ago." Kyari's brow furrowed.

"It's possible to like men and women at the same time, Kyari." Marthel rolled his eyes.

"Rinok isn't coming to this little shindig, is he?"

"Unfortunately for you, yes."

"You certainly pick odd party guests, Marthel."

Marthel turned around, crossed the room, and sat on his coffee table facing Kyari. Nadia stalked off to her room, grumbling something about planeswalkers and their bizarre morals.

"That's just it, Kyari. This isn't a party. It's an expedition."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place? I would have gotten far less angry at you on Equilor if you'd just told me what we were doing." Kyari's mind bounced between a hundred research projects. Where were they going? What were they looking for? How long would it take?

"All your questions will be answered in time. Not everyone knows yet and I wanted to announce it at the party, but we're going to Xerex."

"The maze? What's so special about that place?"

"You know my fascination with the walkers of old. Urza is said to have left something at Xerex's center. I don't know what might be guarding it, so I need your expertise in creatures," Marthel said.

"I'm not the best with artifact creatures, and that was something Urza was famous for. He built Karn out of silver, for Ephara's sake."

"When did you start swearing by Theros gods?"

"Shandalar really doesn't have any for me to invoke." Kyari shrugged. "I like them well enough."

"Personally I think Xenagos is my favorite."

"Because you both like to party?" Kyari cocked one of her eyebrows, mimicking one of Marthel's favorite facial expressions.

"No, actually. Because he didn't let his fate define him. He ascended to godhood and achieved his dream rather than sitting around merely thinking of it. That's why I want all of us to go into Xerex. I'm going to need every person I invited. I only hope you'll all be able to work together for once." Marthel sighed.

"I can work just fine with both Brock and Odom. Sa'Raah might not be so bad either. A dragon army is useful."

"I wonder if you'd even be able to work with Sverre. He's the lord of Helheim, a necromancer. His whole goal in life is to regain the power planeswalkers lost in the mending. He's that old that he remembers it."

Kyari shuddered. "Dead things should stay in the earth where they belong, Marthel."

"And of course you won't work with Rinok. If you hate him you'll definitely dislike Rhyne."

"As long as he isn't twisting or corrupting the divine powers he was gifted with, I won't have any sort of disagreement with him."

"Speaking of corrupting divine powers, I'm surprised you aren't on Innistrad right now researching the madness going on there. The mana of the plane is being warped by an unknown force." Marthel held his face in his hands and rested his elbows on his knees.

"I haven't gotten around to it. Besides, isn't there a Soratami walker already there?"

"One of Brock's foster mothers from Kamigawa, Tamiyo." Marthel didn't hold Kyari's gaze. His eyes drifted over to a window that gave him a lovely view of the sprawling Izzet laboratory complexes.

"They don't really talk much, I think."

"They don't speak at all anymore. Last time Brock was on Innistrad, he ran into her and they had a pretty big falling out. He told me about it last time I dropped in on meditation hour."

"That sucks," Kyari said. "Keeping friends and family is hard when you're a planeswalker, certainly. I never know where I'm going to find any of you guys."

"Yeah, we tend to get around, which is why it took me several weeks to locate everyone." Marthel changed the subject. "Kyari, how did you get into my house?"

"Oh, the doorman let me in. I told him I was your girlfriend." Kyari winked.

"But... what... how..." Marthel massaged his temples. "You don't even like me like that, and while you're a very pretty elf, I'm just not into that. The doorman knows what I'm into. Hell, I spent my move in day flirting with him."

"So we're going to Xerex to find whatever is in the center and you need a biology expert."

"Yes, precisely." Marthel was thankful the conversation had turned back to their original topic. "I also might need your help in determining how dangerous the abomination Odom and Ashleigh made is. I'm not too concerned right now if it's small, but it might get bigger."

"Bigger is certainly something we don't want. If Ravnica has learned one lesson, it's that giant beings fighting doesn't end well. We can look at Experiment One and the incident with the Nephalm as evidence of that." Kyari had produced a notebook from somewhere on her person and was flipping through its pages. "From what I've gathered in conversation, Odom's creature is supposed to be a 'spiritual successor to Experiment One, but more perfect', whatever that means."

"Brock will automatically want to destroy it, I'm not so sure what the others will think. I don't want this to distract from going to Xerex, but we might have to deal with it beforehand."

"About that," Kyari interrupted Marthel as he took a breath. "I'm not so certain it would distract from it. Having a large creature with unknown abilities might prove useful. None of us know what Xerex holds, and we certainly don't know what kind of traps Urza might have laid."

"You're telling me we leave it be and see what happens?" Marthel was happy to say he wasn't awestruck by Kyari's conclusions. He needed someone on his side, and had been banking on it being the traveling biologist. Her knowledge about creatures was unsurpassed in his little band of friends, the others would hopefully listen to her. The expedition couldn't be jeopardized because of a few personal agendas.

"Well, yeah. That's kind of what I do." Kyari scribbled a few notes in her book before hiding it in the same mysterious place from which the book had come. The miniature hydra began to make gurgling sounds that would have been growls had it been larger. "I think someone is hungry. Where's a good place to feed a growing baby hydra?"

"That thing is still a baby?"

"I'm actually not entirely sure. Nobody on Shandalar has seen a fully grown primordial hydra. I keep having to downsize it when I travel, it hates being left alone so I have to bring it everywhere."

"I suppose Gruul territory might be suitable. Plenty of wild beasts."

"I'll check it out," Kyari stood to leave, scooping the hydra into her arms.

"Look for my letter for the exact date of our soiree."

"Will do, Marthel."


	49. Chapter 49

Planar Chaos

One Shots: No Fairies Allowed

"Oona, my love," Sverre called to his queen from the bedroom of their spacious palace on Helheim, "I'll be going out for a while." He tossed his cloak around his shoulders and readjusted his helmet.

"When will you return?" Oona leaned against the door frame watching Sverre preening in the mirror. "You won't be gone as long as last time, will you?"

Sverre looked over his shoulder at Oona. Her soft white hair floated around her face like a cloud. The only thing silkier than the flowers of her cloak was her blue skin. Sverre hated to be parted from such divine grace that death would never touch. Sverre was the master of life and death on this plane. He refused to allow its icy hands to get anywhere near his queen.

"I suppose," Sverre said slowly, "you could come with me." He couldn't honestly say to his dearest love that he knew when he'd be returning. Things involving Marthel were tricky at best and dodgy at their worst. The unpredictable planeswalker could go from chatting amiably about the weather to tearing something to shreds in an instant with the right trigger. Did he really want Oona around someone like that on a plane where she'd be incredibly vulnerable?

"I would like nothing better," Oona said. She'd crossed the room and was now holding Sverre's hands. He couldn't bear to see the light in her eyes extinguished.

"You should know that Ravnica isn't the kindest place in the world for the fae folk. You'll be small again, just like you were on Lorwyn."

"I have faith that you'll protect me," Oona said. She rested her head on Sverre's chest.

"I certainly can," Sverre replied. He flexed his right arm. He now sported an intricate tattoo depicting his favorite zombie wurm. This tattoo would allow him to summon Jormungandr more quickly. "Hang on tight, my love." Sverre wrapped his arms around Oona and planeswalked.

"You're certainly correct about being smaller, Sverre," Oona said. She sat inside the hood of his cloak, next to his ear. "I don't believe I was this tiny on Lorwyn."

A small group of fairies were chased across the street by an angry shopkeeper. Oona and Sverre followed their flight path, examining these mischievous fairies. One of them glanced over at the planeswalker and stopped midflight. The shopkeeper smacked it out of the air, squishing it underfoot. Oona huddled closer to Sverre's ear, hiding her face in his hair.

"Your friend wanted you to come to this place?" Oona's voice was soft, but Sverre could hear it trembling.

"Worry not, my love, I'll protect you, I promise."

Sverre gave the shop a pass and entered one down the street, ignoring the sign that read in large block lettering "No Fairies, No Cloaks".

"Oi," the shopkeeper grunted.

Sverre ignored him, examining an artifact sitting on one of the pop up shelves.

"Oi," the shopkeeper grunted again.

Sverre still ignored him. Oona was shaking next to his ear.

"OI!" The shopkeeper shouted.

This time Sverre turned to the shopkeeper. "Can I help you?"

The shopkeeper pointed pointed to the sign she'd proudly displayed in the corner of her shop since it opened. "No cloaks."

"It's rather brisk outside, I'd like to stay warm."

"Them's the rules."

"I hardly find your rule necessary."

"It's them damn fairies," the shopkeeper huffed. She readjusted her bodice. "They ruined everyone's business with their thieving. They're worth nothing. I squish as many as I can find."

"I'm sure they aren't entirely bad," Sverre said. He did his best to keep the defensive edge out of his voice. Oona cowering against him didn't help.

"You must be new around these parts, then. Fairies are untrustworthy thieves, nothing more. Don't let their squeaky voices fool you. The little nuisances will rob you blind the second you turn your back." The shopkeeper reached towards Sverre's hood, having caught sight of something near his neck.

"Please don't touch my cloak." Sverre took a step back.

"Get out of my shop." The shopkeeper glowered at him. Sverre decided to not provoke her any further and exited the stall, heading back out into the crowded street. He looked around for any other shop that would prove to be more hospitable to a man wearing a cloak and secretly accompanied by his fairy queen. A stall with a red banner caught his eye. He waded through the crowd, keeping his cloak pulled tightly around him. This was more for Oona's benefit than his own.

"Ey," the shopkeeper, a vedalken man this time, said. "No cloaks."

"I don't see a sign."

"Don't need one." The vedalken crossed his arms, an angered flush creeping into his blue cheeks and turning them a strange shade of violet.

"What is this obsession with cloaks?" Sverre threw his hands up.

"The fairies used to use them to pull their little heists. Three or four would hide inside them, acting like a person and stealing things from the shops."

"I am obviously not a fairy, good sir."

"No, but that little snip by your ear is, and you best be getting her out of my shop before I see her innards splattered on the ground like the bug she is."

"Do you dare insult my queen, sir?"

"Your what?" The vedalken began to chuckle, then it evolved into a loud guffawing. "That's rich. The tiny little bug queen of the thieves and her bodyguard." The shopkeeper reached out and pushed Sverre's hood back with one hand, making a grab for Oona with the other. He found himself on the ground, looking up at Sverre who had murder in his eyes.

"You will not touch her," Sverre snarled. The vedalken found himself unable to move as Sverre exited the shop. Then he felt a rumbling in the ground. It was the last thing he felt.

Witnesses would later describe what transpired to the investigating Azorius Justicars as a large wurm erupting from the earth, devouring just that one stall, and returning to the earth in an instant. After that, the wurm seemed to disappear completely. Nobody could accurately describe what it looked like. There were some descriptions linking it to an Armada Wurm, others declaring it was some sort of zombie creature. The investigation began with the Golgari, but the justicars made very little progress with the trolls and rot farmers. The case was closed quickly as a freak accident.

Sverre chuckled to himself as he walked away. The tattoo on his arm tingled slightly. It had been a good test of its efficacy. He and Oona found a small bistro that was fae-friendly and shared a frozen dairy concoction that the natives of Ravnica referred to as a milkshake, using two straws to do so. Oona's was more like a stirrer found in cocktails, as the straw Sverre used was far too big for Oona's mouth. Sverre extended one finger to caress her face.

"So beautiful, yet so fragile," Sverre sighed. "My love, you are the only source of light in my life. Once I restore my powers and we can truly be together forever, I'll be able to shape worlds to your whim."

"With great power comes great responsibility, Sverre," Oona said.

"I'm confident with you by my side, my queen, that I'll be more than capable."


	50. Chapter 50

Planar Chaos

Chapter 12: Partying Up

"Marthel, why are we hanging streamers in my apartment, exactly?" Odom tossed a line of blue crepe paper over his immobile ceiling fan. "I know you said this was supposed to be a party, but does it really need to be this hard to clean up? I have important business with Niv Mizzet in a few hours. It's something that has to be done before we leave for Xerex."

"Can't Ashleigh help you?" Marthel took a brief break from blowing up a rainbow of balloons.

"She's busy tending to the baby." Odom smiled and his eyes seemed to get a little misty. He shot another streamer, a red one this time, across the room to where it stuck to the far wall. Said wall had been coated with a sticky substance Marthel wasn't curious about in the slightest.

"You keep calling this thing a baby, Odom. It's an artificial life form."

"Excuse me," Odom said, turning to Marthel, "this creature is as much my child as Maelstrom is my Brofessional Browler."

"Your what?"

"Browler? It's a pun on bowler? Have you even been bowling?"

"What in the name of the Furnaces of Rath is bowling?" Marthel asked.

"You roll a heavy ball down a lane and knock over pins. It's actually quite fun, but Ash cheats and used the bumpers because she can't roll in a straight line. Of course there was also that one time my fingers got stuck and my arm came off." Odom flexed the hand attached to his treelike arm. "That was hard to explain to the owner of the place, since they have a strict 'no undead' rule and limbs falling off definitely isn't usual amongst the living."

Before Marthel could answer, there was a knock.

"Come in, it's open," Odom called, returning to launching streamers.

Sverre cautiously opened the door, more for the benefit of Oona, who was sitting in his hood like it was a hammock. He had a vague idea of what to expect inside of Odom's home. The scene before him was not part of that vague idea.

A "Multiverse's Best Dad" mug sat on the kitchen counter filled to the brim with what smelled like coffee. Marthel was sitting on the back of a chair blowing up birthday balloons while Odom launched streamers from a small catapult.

"I'm confused," Sverre said, pushing his winged helmet farther back on his head. "What kind of party is this?"

"Hopefully one to celebrate a ten-way equal partnership for exploration," Marthel said.

"I still think Brock won't go for it," Odom replied. "He's going to hear 'ancient research' and 'untold capabilities' and immediately want to keep it away from everyone."

"Not everyone," Marthel shot back, "just your girlfriend."

"Seriously, guys, Ashleigh isn't evil. She's just misunderstood."

"Ashleigh?" Oona popped her head over Sverre's shoulder.

"Yes, dear," Sverre said, answering her unspoken question. "That Ashleigh, your little champion. She's all grown up now and more than a little insane from what I've gathered. Something Maralen did to her after your escape."

"She hears voices, and they don't stop unless she's completely alone or on a dead plane," Odom explained. "By the way, it's finally nice to meet your Queen, Sverre. You're right, she is incredibly beautiful, however there's some mechanics that I don't think would work out very well."

"Odom," Marthel cut in, "please get your mind out of the gutter."

"It goes where it goes," Odom said, shrugging. "Grab a seat, Sverre, we've still got more friends to wait on.

Rinok and Rhyne came through the door next.

"This had better be interesting, Marthel," Rhyne said. He leaned against the wall nearest the door scratching at his wild beard.

"If things are dull I could certainly get us into a Rakdos revel," Rinok smiled menacingly. "I've kept my signet through the years and they love plus ones."

"I suppose massacring people coated in pig blood could be fun," Rhyne sighed.

Odom pulled Marthel aside. "Just who the Helheim have you invited into my house?"

"A warmonger and an incredibly bored sadist," Marthel said matter-of-factly.

"For the record, I am not okay with that."

"It's going to take a certain level of ruthlessness to get to the center of Xerex. I know of nobody better suited for the job." Marthel turned back to his guests. "It's going to be quite interesting, I can assure you. As soon as the rest of our guests arrive, we have a couple of announcements to make."

Ashleigh called up from the laboratory one floor down, "I'm not finished with the nursery yet! Can't you all wait?"

"We'll do our best," Odom called back down. "Just make sure the baby is awake when we get down there."

"Baby?" Rhyne cocked an eyebrow. "How could you two possibly have a baby?"

"Planeswalkers can have children, but we didn't actually make this one ourselves. Okay, we did, but not the old fashioned way," Odom said.

"They created a creature," Marthel said. He was beginning to be very happy that he'd left Nadia at home for the time being.

"I certainly hope it's as interesting as you think it is, Marthel," Kyari said. She had once again let herself in, baby hydra sitting on her shoulder.

"How do you keep doing that?" Marthel's voice shot up a couple of octaves.

"I'll be honest. I bought a whispersilk cloak." Kyari shrugged. She then caught sight of Rinok. "You." Her eyes narrowed.

"Hello again, Kyari Alexiona," Rinok chuckled. "I wonder if this time you've changed your mind, or do you still cling to the sad fate hidden behind the illusion of peace?"

"I certainly still prefer peace to war, Rinok." She turned her attention to the walkers she had not met. "Greetings, my name is Kyari Alexiona, of Shandalar."

"Sverre, of Helheim. This is my wife, Oona." He let the fairy queen stand on his hand to curtsy.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Kyari," Oona said politely.

"Wait. You're that Oona? But didn't you die? Maralen rules Lorwyn now," Kyari said. Her mind went immediately to what Marthel had said of Sverre, that he was a necromancer. "I see you can't leave the dead alone, Sverre. Marthel warned me of that."

"I can assure you, the cold claws of death have never once touched my lovely Oona." Sverre was offended by the very implication of Oona being a resurrected corpse, and it showed in his voice.

Kyari backed off. She looked to the other unfamiliar walker in the room, a young man with unkempt hair. "What is your name," she asked.

"My name is Rhyne. There are those who call me the Wildfire of Fiora," he replied.

"I can't say I've heard of you," Kyari said.

"And I can't say I've heard of you, it seems like we run in different circles."

"Speaking of circles," Marthel interrupted, "I think more guests are arriving."

Brock entered, followed by Sa'Raah. They were in the midst of a heated discussion.

"Don't you see," Brock said, "that a multiverse ruled by a single dragonlord would never work? People's freedoms on completely different planes with different magic and rules would be squashed just to institute one dictator over them. And what of the planes that have no dragons?"

"Such places will be home to the growing brood. When you look to the skies how can you not be awestruck by the fearsome superiority of the draconic race?" Sa'Raah said. She hadn't taken notice of Rinok yet, but he had taken notice of her. A feral sparkle lit up his eyes. The dragon girl's dead body would certainly light the fires of war in Sarkhan once again, even if he was at war against Rinok. Such a conflict could be dragged out across the planes, never ending and always renewing itself. Yes. Sa'Raah was his key to eternal warfare.

"I just don't like the idea of someone on another plane who has never met me telling me how to live my life," Brock said.

"You studied under Ojutai, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then you know the dragons are far superior to any other race. Their infinite wisdom has given Tarkir peace for a thousand years." Sa'Raah crossed her arms. "How can't you see that?"

"Because I've studied under more people than just Master Ojutai. I've learned about different worlds and the people who inhabit them." Brock's robes were swishing around him as he gesticulated to punctuate his sentences. A vein that Kyari knew only appeared when Brock was incredibly agitated throbbed on his bald scalp. "I learned that there's more knowledge out there than just what the dragonlords told us."

"Ahem," Marthel coughed. "I think we're waiting for just one more."

"It's nice to see you, Sa'Raah," Kyari said. "How've you been?"

"Oh, just fine. Have you been trapping any more baby dragons?" There was a slight edge to her voice.

"We only did that the one time," Odom interjected. "And we healed it afterwards. Are you still mad about that?"

"You hurt one of my family, of course I am."

"And this is why I don't think we'd work well together, Marthel, this crap right here." Odom gestured to Sa'Raah. "She doesn't know how to let things go."

"She does have a point, Odom," Marthel said. "Some of your methods are questionable."

"Don't go taking her side when you're using my house to host your party."

Another knock sounded at the door. Odom peered through the peephole and saw a vampire wearing an Orzhov signet as an ascot pin. Odom opened the door. "I didn't do it and I don't want any." He slammed it in the vampire's face.

"Was that a vampire?" Marthel asked.

"Yes."

"Did he have a canvas under one arm?"

"I don't know," Odom said. "Let me check."

He opened the door again, noted a canvas, and slammed the door before the vampire could respond.

"Yeah, why?" Odom asked Marthel.

"That's our last guest. Let him in." Marthel pushed his way through the now slightly crowded living space and opened the door. "I'm sorry about that, Vilhelm. Odom's a bit... jumpy might be the right word."

"It's fine," Vilhelm said. He smiled, revealing his long fangs. "I'm used to it as a debt collector."

"Is that your latest piece?" Marthel's hand twitched towards the painting.

"Mhm. It's a portrait of Lady Teysa. Want to see?"

"Everyone gather around," Marthel commanded. "This is what a real blood artist can do."

Vilhelm pulled away the cover in a dramatic fashion. Several faces blushed bright red, others glanced around awkwardly. The image was definitely of Lady Teysa, Envoy of the Ghost Council, but she was in a rather compromising position with Vilhelm himself.

If vampires could blush, the partygoers believed the expression on Vilhelm's face would have been accompanied by a red color. "Oops," he said, immediately covering the moving painting back up. "That wasn't the one I meant to grab."

"We all make mistakes. It's fine." Marthel patted the poor guy on the back. He made a mental note to ask Ashleigh if she wanted to "borrow" a particular memory later.

"Nursery's ready!" Ashleigh called.

"Time for you all to meet our baby." Odom smiled brightly. He proudly led the way down the stairs into the lab that had been apartment 445. That lab had been converted into a mockery of a nursery. A large plush approximation of Kozilek sat in one corner. The incubation chamber had been modified to resemble a bassinet, complete with red pillows and a large black bow. A mobile hung above this bizarre crib, decorated with miniatures of the Praetors of New Phyrexia surrounding a slightly larger miniature of Emrakul that hurt the eyes of everyone but Odom to look at.

Ashleigh herself was wearing what seemed to be a maternity dress and cradling something wrapped in an electric blue blanket. The bottle from which she fed it glowed faintly. Her hair was tossed back in a messy bun, a few strands plastered to her forehead with sweat.

"You would not believe how much baby abominations eat," she chuckled. Her eyes never left the creature's.

"I can only imagine," Kyari said. She'd taken the first step forward. "May I?"

"Hold it? Of course," Ashleigh removed the bottle from the creature's beaklike mouth and handed it to Kyari.

Odom was by Ashleigh's side in an instant, one arm restraining her gently. "It has DNA from at least five different dragon species from six different planes. I even utilized some beast, kraken, and a smidgen of eldrazi."

"Dragon?" Sa'Raah perked up immediately. She rushed forward to peer at the creature. It wriggled in Kyari's grasp, freeing itself of its blankets. A dragonlike tail and stubby wings were soon visible.

"Mhm," Ashleigh said proudly.

"Oh isn't it just the cutest little thing," Sa'Raah cooed. "Such a sweet little baby!" The being had dragon blood. It was part of Sa'Raah's family and would know the might of its kindred in time. This creature might be the key to subduing the multiverse under Dromoka's compassionate fist.

"It truly is fantastic, Odom," Sverre said. "I've never seen its equal, and I was present for the incident with Krajj."

"A creature with so much potential deserves to carry me into battle," Rinok said. "How much are you selling it for?"

"I'd rather see it in action before I start tossing out bids, Rinok," Rhyne replied. "Maybe we ought to set it loose on a peaceful plane for a trial run."

"You're all insane," Brock cried. "Can't you see we have to destroy it?"

Ashleigh snatched the creature back from Kyari and Sa'Raah, clutching it protectively to her chest. She made a growling noise at Brock.

"Brock," Kyari said, moving to stand next to him, "we don't know that it's a threat yet. I think we ought to give it some time."

"Literally everyone in this room is thinking of ways to use it to destroy the multiverse," Brock groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"That's not true," Marthel said, "and you know it."

"It might be dangerous," Sverre said, "but for now it's just a baby. You wouldn't murder a baby animal in cold blood, would you, Brock? I certainly wouldn't, and I'm arguably the most immoral person here. I don't see any of you flouting the laws of life and death on a daily basis."

"You're in on this with her, aren't you?" Brock pointed an accusing finger at Sverre.

"No, but I assure you if she and Odom had asked for my help in creating a creature I would have gladly given it because I consider them my friends."

Vilhelm remained quiet, watching as the group of planeswalkers slowly began to turn on each other. The factions were already forming, and he had some idea of where everyone's loyalties would fall.

"I suppose we won't be one big happy adventuring party when we planeswalk to Xerex?" Marthel sighed dejectedly.

"Xerex?" Every head in the room that didn't already know their destination turned to Marthel.

"Yep, the maze. I was going to ask you all to come with me to find our way to the center. Urza is rumored to have left some research down there, and I want to know what it is." Marthel shrugged. "But I can't even trust you all to not fight over something as simple as an abomination."

"Whatever is at the center of Xerex can't fall into the wrong hands," Brock said. "I'll definitely come with you."

"What exactly do you consider the wrong hands?" Odom barked.

"Not you and your psychotic sidekick."

"Hey, Ashleigh is way more than just my sidekick!"

Sa'Raah rounded on Brock. "I suppose my hands are the wrong ones too?"

"What?" Brock threw his hands up. "No, that's not what I meant at all. I just don't think that the potentially world changing things down there should be in the hands of an insane woman who has expressed on multiple occasions she wants to destroy the world."

"I keep telling you she won't actually go through with it," Odom said.

"Well I certainly want whatever's down there," Rinok said. "It could improve my weapons. I could wage war across multiple planes at once."

"Eternal warfare does sound like fun." Rhyne smirked. "There's a lot of brutality to be visited on people and worlds and things."

"Well I need it to revive our lost powers," Sverre said. "I'm more than willing to share the research with whoever wants it."

"I just want to know what's down there," Ashleigh said softly.

"Sverre do you even realize you would destroy the balance of the multiverse," Kyari said. "It's evolved to deal with less powerful planeswalkers, we can't throw a wrench into the interplanar ecosystem like that."

"Rinok isn't getting ahold of that research while I'm still alive," Sa'Raah said. "It belongs in the hands of those who will use it wisest."

"You mean the dragons?" Brock rolled his eyes.

"She means people who won't abuse it. Say what you want about her plan, but Dromoka and Ojutai are certainly wise enough to understand." Kyari placed a calming hand on Brock's arm.

"I guess we're splitting up, gang," Marthel sighed.

Sverre, Odom, and Ashleigh stood in one corner, Ashleigh cradling her precious creature. Kyari stood with Brock and Sa'Raah across from them. Vilhelm found himself with Rinok and Rhyne while Marthel stood in the center wondering where he went wrong.


	51. Chapter 51

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Firemind/Dragonlord

"Can everyone do me a favor and get out of my house?" Odom asked, attempting to diffuse the tension in the room. "I have a meeting with Niv Mizzet in under an hour. Sverre, Ash, you guys can stay and look after little Abby."

"Abby?" Brock repeated, disgusted by what he was hearing.

"Well we can't just call it 'Abomination'." Odom rolled his eyes at Brock. "Geeze, what kind of parents do you take us for?"

"Come on, Brock," Kyari began dragging the irate monk out the door. "We need to leave." Sa'Raah placed two firm hands on his back and began to push. Marthel ushered the rest of his failed attempt at an adventuring party out of the door.

"I'm really sorry about all of this, Odom. If it's any consolation, I think Abby's adorable." Marthel gave the other walkers in the room a sheepish half smile before leaving.

 **000**

Odom waited outside of the Firemind's audience chamber with an incredibly fidgety Ral Zarek. Ral, the maze runner and murderer of one of Odom's greatest research projects, had spent the better part of the last half hour attempting to instruct Odom on how to keep the secrets of the multiverse.

"The Firemind cannot be allowed to know that there are other planes, Odom," Ral said, "you understand that, don't you?"

Odom rolled his eyes. This was the thirty-seventh time Ral had asked him that question, and while he perfectly understood why Ral was behaving this way, Odom also understood something else. He understood that you never ever underestimated the Firemind. Niv Mizzet was, in fact, full of himself, but he was rightly so.

"I had to have this same conversation with Jace, and I'll have it with every walker who comes through that door." Ral pointed behind him at the exact same moment none other than Sa'Raah, the Envoy of Dragonfire herself, opened the heavy metal door with a loud creaking sound.

"Good luck with that, Ral." Odom patted the man on the shoulder before being led to the audience chamber by a pair of goblins in test pilot gear. He thought they looked familiar, then again all goblins looked the same to him.

The audience chamber was one of the more form over function areas of the Izzet laboratory complex. It featured a massive pillow on which the Firemind reclined, the walls encrusted with blue and red glass and gems surrounding a multitude of mirrors. A mosaic on the floor depicted the guild's signet. Niv Mizzet himself sat in such a way that he mirrored the posture of the mosaic dragon beneath him.

"Your brilliance," Odom said, bowing low.

"Odom, come to ask for another leave of, what do you call it, research absence?" Niv Mizzet crossed his forelegs and tilted his head to the side. His blue, membranous mane settled against his skull. There was a mischievous, yet self-satisfied, twinkle in his large yellow eye, an eye that was easily larger than Odom's own head.

"Something like that,"Odom said. His actual preferred term was scholarly sabbatical.

"I suppose you've already asked the Simic for one as well?"

"Zegana told me to do whatever." Odom smirked. "She doesn't entirely trust me, though. She doesn't entirely trust anyone who had anything to do with Krajj."

"I can see why. Zegana always struck me as someone too obsessed with whether or not we should do something, not whether we can." Niv Mizzet glanced downwards and off to the side. "This absence of yours, I trust you won't fail to return with something suiting this guild's reputation?"

"Have I ever failed before?" Odom cocked one eyebrow.

"Certainly not, especially not after your first miraculous return," Niv Mizzet guffawed. "What does Zarek think you told me, again?"

"He thinks that I told you the magical force of the explosion teleported me to the Gruul badlands, where I was grievously injured and had to make it back to the city." Odom chuckled.

"Ha! Classic!" Niv Mizzet snickered. "As if I didn't already know about the multiverse. I'm far too old and far to brilliant for that, my boy. Zarek's concern about keeping it a secret, especially now that our Guildpact has mysteriously vanished, is incredibly amusing to me. So tell me, where are you going this time?"

"A maze plane called Xerex. It seems to be entirely based around artifacts and itself might not be a natural plane. There is some research from an ancient planeswalker named Urza who was, by all accounts, a genius."

"And you plan to bring it back to the guild, of course." Niv Mizzet's voice held a threat under the thinnest veil possible.

"Of course," Odom said, "once I and my colleagues have secured the research and done any preliminary tests necessary, I will bring it back here for further study."

"By 'colleagues' I suppose you mean that insane electromancer you bring around? I enjoy her presence. She lightens up the place quite a bit. She's also especially powerful from what I've seen." Niv Mizzet caught his reflection in a mirror and began to preen his gleaming crimson scales.

"Ash is something of a savant," Odom admitted. His own weak electromancy was a sore spot many other guild members liked to press.

"Odom." Niv Mizzet stopped his preening and suddenly became very serious. "I've been hatching a plan of sorts, something that Beleren with his new responsibilities would be required to disapprove of. If this research you're after proves to be useful to this end, how would you like to be the figurehead of the Simic? I'd be the real leader, of course, but one must keep up appearances. Ravnica has tremendous potential, and from my fantastically long life I've seen how the guildpact represses and squanders that potential. We as a plane could achieve great things. I need another guild on my side, and the Azorius and Dimir certainly aren't of a mind to agree with me."

Odom felt a strange sensation in his stomach. "Does this mean you'll never saddle me with another artifice project ever again?"

"My boy, I haven't given you one since you exploded. I'm too smart to not have learned that lesson."

Meanwhile, Ral was having a difficult time getting Sa'Raah to understand why Niv Mizzet wouldn't want to unite under the banner of another dragon.

"I don't understand," Sa'Raah said. "Dragons are the superior life form. Shouldn't he want to join forces with others of his kind to establish their supremacy across all planes? Especially if he's the only one here and sharing his power with lesser beings?"

"That might have been the way things worked on Tarkir," Ral said," but here on Ravnica we have something called the Guildpact that insures no guild becomes more powerful than another. Niv Mizzet proclaiming himself the Dragonlord of Ravnica wouldn't go over well with the other guildmasters."

"They couldn't do anything about it if he had the armies of Dromoka at his back."

"And where do you stand in this new world order, elf?" Ral shot back. "You aren't a dragon. You'll be a part of the inferior races toiling away to please these dragonlords."

"This isn't a helmet, you know." Sa'Raah gestured to the scaled protrusions surrounding her face and her horns. "This is the dragonscale boon, granted to me by my adoptive mother, the dragonlord Dromoka. I'm as much of a dragon as I can be."

"Still not really one, though." Ral smirked, crossing his arms.

Sa'Raah looked down at her feet. Where would she stand? Up until this moment she had always assumed her mother would guarantee her status among the other dragons, but would the other dragons stand for it? Sa'Raah hadn't thought about the necessity that she may need to sacrifice her rank in order for the dream she had for her clan to be achieved.

Sarkhan could become a dragon, though. He might be able to teach Sa'Raah how to complete her partial transformation. If that failed, she supposed being the bride of a dragon would give her some status. Especially if she bore him children. She'd be a mother of dragons herself.

But dragons didn't sit idly and ask politely. Dragons took what they wanted. They demanded respect, and when it wasn't given they took it with tooth and claw and flame. Sa'Raah wouldn't wait for them to make her a dragon. She'd prove that she was one, even if it meant fighting those she'd once called her family.

The door to the audience chamber opened and Odom waltzed out with his head held high. He winked at Ral and gestured for Sa'Raah to enter.

"What did you say to him?" Ral had Odom by the collar, but recoiled when the fabric melted in his hands only to reconstitute itself once the Izzet mazerunner let go.

"Ral Zarek, there is one thing I advise you to stop doing."

"What is it, Sparky?"

"Never underestimate the Firemind." Odom strolled calmly past Ral, slapping the other walker square in the face with his right hand as he did so. That arm, sleeve included, detached at the shoulder and hung there, adhered to Ral Zarek's face by its oozy consistency. A new arm swiftly grew from Odom's shoulder stump and he was able to open the main door with his right hand and carry on his merry way.

Ral himself was immobilized by revulsion and terror.

Sa'Raah was having much better luck with Niv Mizzet than Ral had ever thought possible in his most terrifying nightmares.

"Greetings, Dragonlord Niv Mizzet of Ravnica. My name is Sa'Raah, I am the Envoy of Dragonfire sent by Dromoka of Tarkir to unite the dragons of the multiverse so they may take their rightful place as the rulers of all inferior races." Sa'Raah bowed low before Niv Mizzet, as low as she would have before any of the dragonlords of Tarkir.

"I can't say anyone's ever bowed quite so low before," Niv Mizzet said. "But what you said about dragons taking their rightful place is certainly something I can get behind. I'm the last of my kind, you see. We were once feared and respected."

"You could be again, Dragonlord Niv Mizzet." Sa'Raah looked up at the glowing crimson beast in front of her.

"But it's going to cost me?" Niv Mizzet peered down at Sa'Raah. "My dear, I've played many games in my long life. Nothing you could say would have thrown me off guard about a cost."

"All I request in this new inter-planar order is that my place among the dragons be confirmed."

"Having doubts about your Dromoka's promises, are we?" Niv Mizzet did something he hadn't done in a long time. He extended his neck to be closer to eye level with his guest. The cool tiles of the floor slid against his scales, creating a melodic clicking sound.

Sa'Raah was suddenly intimately aware of the size and power of this dragon. He, like her mother, could snuff out Sa'Raah's life on a whim. She stood firm. Dragons didn't back down from other dragons.

"I'm called the Firemind for a reason, Sa'Raah. I have no patience for minds who cannot impress me or explode trying. You impress me. You have something we've needed in this guild for a long time. You have a grand vision. I'd love nothing more than for the Izzet to be a part of this vision. We can go places together, you and I. Unlike some on this plane, I recognize true talent when I see it."

"So you'll join with me?"

"If you'll join with me."

"Deal."


	52. Chapter 52

Planar Chaos

Chapter 13: Preparations

After Odom left for his appointment with Niv Mizzet, it was time for Ashleigh to feed little Abby.

"I'm curious," Sverre said, peering over Ashleigh's shoulder at the abomination, "what does it eat?"

"At the moment, we're feeding it a concoction similar to what Maelstrom Wanderer eats. It seems to like it." She placed a glowing syringe next to the creature's beak. The shimmering liquid was squeezed into its mouth, then the syringe was refilled from a large beaker several more times before the creature refused any more.

"Are any of its abilities emerging?" Sverre asked.

"We'll know more as it grows and gets larger. I think it's going to be able to fly. Abby's got vestigial wings, but they might grow to be big enough to support it." Ashleigh flipped the creature onto its belly and extended one leathery wing. The beginnings of a crest of feathers could be seen on its skull, snaking their way along its spine to the tail. The seven tentacles twitched and writhed, trying to find purchase on Ashleigh's lap.

"I certainly hope it grows fast," Sverre said. "We might need a trump card if we're going to access that research before the others get there."

"I think you have a trump card already, dear," Oona said, crawling from her hiding place inside Sverre's hood. As soon as the arguing started, she'd taken refuge inside her king's cloak, not daring to come out until some semblance of a tranquil atmosphere had been achieved. She sat elegantly on Sverre's shoulder, looking into the eyes of her former champion as she did so.

Ashleigh almost dropped the abomination in her lap. Her jaw dropped so far that it would have, if it were capable of doing so, hit the floor.

"Oo-Oona?" she stammered. The Queen of the Fae just smiled politely.

"But," Ashleigh's mind was reeling more than usual. The combination of the ever present voices and the shock was too much. When she spoke, she looked at the creature in her lap, not at Oona. "You died. I saw... and Maralen, she... Lorwyn is... How?" Her face turned dark. She looked up at Sverre accusingly. "You!"

"Not me." Sverre held up his hands in a non-threatening gesture. "Well, kind of me. But no resurrection at all. We made a clone, secreted Oona away. She's been living with me on Helheim ever since as my queen."

"You didn't think to tell me?" Ashleigh narrowed her eyes.

"To be fair, I'm not exactly welcome on Innistrad, and you did a pretty good job of holing yourself up there."

"Not exactly welcome? The whole place is filled with Ghoulcallers and Stitchers. You'd fit right in."

"Sorin would have it a different way," Sverre said sheepishly.

"What could you have possibly done to make the lord of Innistrad that angry at you?"

"I may or may not have tried to resurrect a dark angel at some point. Avacyn got angry and dragged Sorin into the conflict."

"Well it's a good thing you never tested your luck. The angels have gone mad. Everyone is a target for their purification now. My house is testament to that." Ashleigh sighed. "But how is Oona our trump card?"

"As Queen of the Fae, I've found that I command the respect and obedience of every fairy on every plane I've visited with Sverre so far. My influence stretches farther than our enemies could imagine. We can easily pick their plans from their dreams as well." Oona fluttered over to Ashleigh, placing a tiny hand on the woman's cheek. "You were so young when we parted, but it makes me happy to see you've made a new family for yourself."

"I was alone for a while, you know," Ashleigh said grimly. "I had to be. Maralen, she did something to me. I don't know what it was."

"May I?" Oona asked. When Ashleigh nodded hesitantly the Queen of the Fae slipped inside her mind, searching through her dreams for a cause.

"I can't be sure that Maralen didn't have powers I couldn't control. This torment might be her doing, but it might be a natural response to the changes on Lorwyn. With the daily cycle reinstated, the denizens could very well have daily fluctuations in their mannerisms. You are not of Lorwyn, but lived there long enough to be bound to its magics." Oona drew her hand away. "Unfortunately there is nothing I can do."

"It's fine, Oona," Ashleigh looked back down at the gray abomination in her lap. It returned her adoring gaze. "Abby does enough."

 **0000**

"You guys go back to wherever you're going to be, I'll catch up." Sa'Raah broke from her group and headed in the direction she thought the main Izzet laboratory complex would be. Her comrades knew of her plans to speak to the Firemind, to bring him to her cause, and they were more than a little skeptical.

"Good luck, Sa'Raah," Kyari said, still keeping a firm grasp on Brock's wrist. They watched as the dragon girl faded into the crowded Ravnica streets.

"I don't understand why you're going to let them keep that thing," Brock said. The vein in his forehead still throbbed with frustration.

"And I don't understand what your obsession with destroying it is. It's an innocent creature, and a completely new life form. Aren't you the least bit curious?" Kyari said.

"No, I'm not. And that thing is not innocent. It was born from evil and will be raised by evil. I told Marthel her influence over Odom worried me, and now he'll see why."

"I'll see what?" Marthel ghosted up beside them in his white cloak.

"You'll understand exactly why the Voidcaller and that thing have to be destroyed for good, for the protection of the entire multiverse. You'll see why we can't let anyone else have that research because they'll misuse it," Brock said emphatically.

"So you want to hide the truth from people?" Marthel asked. "For the greater good? Isn't that what your master did? Isn't that why Narset got thrown out of the Ojutai, because she sought knowledge and wanted to share it?"

"I'm all for peace and the greater good, I just can't see why you have a vendetta against someone that hasn't done anything yet. You need patience, Brock, maybe then you'll understand your enemy and have the means to turn her into an ally." Kyari switched from a vise grip on Brock's wrist to calmly holding his hand.

"I don't want to ally myself with someone that mentally unstable," Brock retorted. "And you sound just like the Soratami, Kyari. I'm sorry. I'm human. I won't live as long as an elf, so I can't exactly have your level of patience. If there is a threat, I have to take it out immediately and they're all threats now, Sverre, Odom, and the Voidcaller."

"How many times have I ever heard you refer to her by name?" Marthel asked. "Because I think I can count them on one hand."

"What does it matter? You of all people should understand what her magic can do, Mathel. You saw what happened to Bant when the Conflux happened. You can't tell me she's any different from the creatures of Grixis that spilled over and defiled your home." Brock threw his hands up, breaking Kyari's grasp.

"I do understand," Marthel said darkly. "Nobody understands more than I do, Brock. When I said the multiverse is my home, I meant it. I've been just about everywhere there is to go, studied everything I could, and learned what I could from every creature I've encountered. You might say that corrupted me, made me selfish and gave me a bit of a temper, but I think it's made me a well rounded person. I understand people. I can help you understand her, if you so desire. If you don't, then we might have a problem in the future. I'm not taking sides in this conflict of yours. I don't want to see my friends tear each other apart over something that might not even be as important and world-shifting as we think it could be. You and Kyari and Sa'Raah can try to get there first, but unless you can work like a team, the kind of team Sverre, Ashleigh, and Odom have, where you're united by your goal, then you won't get very far."

"What exactly does that mean?" Brock asked defiantly. "Kyari agrees with me, we need to keep the research out of the hands of people who would misuse it."

"Brock," Kyari said, "it's not just that goal. I want to amass knowledge, to understand the world and how it grows and changes over time. I could have joined the gatewatch if I wanted to. I could have fought the eldrazi, but fighting them doesn't lead to understanding. That understanding is for the greater good, but I did something you saw as unequivocally bad. Does that make sense?"

Brock opened his mouth to speak, but Kyari cut him off. "I wasn't finished. Sa'Raah's entire worldview is centered around dragons being the superior life form. Whether or not she's right, I can't say. I haven't studied enough dragons yet. But I can tell that you don't think so. You want everyone to be free to determine their own paths, but at the same time you would prevent people you think are 'evil' from doing so. Is Sa'Raah evil because she believes her path to be the Envoy of Dragonfire? We know her. We can agree that she's incredibly kind, one of the nicest walkers I've ever met, but your obsession with preserving the current order skews your ability to accept change. The multiverse is like an ecosystem. Planes have life cycles. They're born, they grow, they die. How are we to decide what is natural and unnatural?"

"We're not." Marthel answered for Brock. "That's the problem we keep running into."

"But," Brock began.

"No buts. There's something you need to see." Marthel grabbed Kyari and Brock by the hand and planeswalked with them to the very first plane he visited upon hatching this plan.

They went to Innistrad.

"Be quiet. Don't make any sudden movements. And whatever you do, don't pray," Marthel instructed.

They were hiding in a bush on the outskirts of a town. Brock felt a strange buzzing in his mind, but ignored it in favor of what was going on in front of him.

Angels, with bloodstained wings, were descending on the township and destroying everyone they saw, from elder to child, even the crying infants in their mother's arms who couldn't understand why those pretty women with wings who decorated the walls of their homes were suddenly so terrifying. Blasts of light rained down from a dark haired angel with a staff. Another one with flaming red hair gutted people on the ground with her twin swords. Other angels followed their lead, corralling the townsfolk and murdering them with twisted expressions of rage and glee.

"Impure!" the lead angels cried in unison. "In the name of Avacyn, we destroy you! Innistrad will be cleansed. Cleansed!"

The other angels followed suit with indecipherable shrieks that occasionally morphed into the words "Impure! Tainted! All men must die!"

"What is going on here?" Brock breathed in horror. "What did this town do to deserve its fate?"

"Absolutely nothing," Marthel responded softly. "The angels have been corrupted by their purpose. They've taken it to the extreme. Without humans, there would be no Ghoulcallers, Stitchers, demon cultists, vampires, werewolves, or any other evil force on Innistrad. So if the seeds of men are tainted, you destroy the seeds before they take root. Do you understand now what we've been trying to tell you?"

"They aren't wrong, though," Brock said. His voice took on a dreamlike quality. The buzzing in his mind grew louder. "They're being proactive about a threat, which is what I'm trying to do."

"Destroying innocent lives isn't something either of us can condone, Brock, you know that," Marthel placed a calming hand on Brock's arm and stared deep inside of Brock with his dark eyes. "I know what you're feeling right now, and you have to fight it. Fight it or you'll end up like them, twisted monsters, a shadow of what they once were."

"Please, Brock," Kyari shifted to kneel in front of him, embracing him and burying her face in his chest. "You need to see."

Brock instinctively wrapped his arms around Kyari, subconsciously protecting her from the corrupted angels. Part of him knew something was wrong with the image, but he couldn't figure out what. The cool touch of Kyari's hands on his temples brought him back to himself. He saw the carnage in front of him for what it was. Senseless slaughter of innocent lives by beings that were supposed to protect them from the evils present on Innistrad. They were the light that had now fallen into shadow. Brock felt as though he was going to be sick.

"We need to leave," Marthel said. "They spotted us." All warmth had drained from his dark face, leaving it ashen.

They planeswalked, back to Ravnica where Sa'Raah would certainly be waiting.

 **0000**

"So what's our plan," Vilhelm asked Rinok and Rhyne as they wandered the streets of Ravnica. "How are we going to go about getting this research and using it to wage eternal war or whatever?" The act was getting difficult to keep up. Vilhelm didn't see himself as a team player, but he now had at his disposal the two most destructive planeswalkers he had ever met. The vampire couldn't help but smile slightly. If anyone was capable of destroying every other walker in existence, including each other, it had to be these two.

"Simple. We get to the maze and murder everyone in our path," Rhyne said, picking at his nails. "It shouldn't really be that hard. Rinok has an army."

"Unfortunately they are current indisposed elsewhere," Rinok said. "I can amass another quite easily, though, as the herald of war."

"I bet the gods of Theros just love you," Rhyne rolled his eyes.

"Mogis and Iroas, certainly," Rinok agreed. "To a certain extent Erebos, Athreos, and possibly Phenax. That last one gets a lot of souls for people bargaining their way out of death."

"You're really excited about this, aren't you?" Vilhelm asked. There had been something in Rinok's voice that made the vampire think the warrior was hiding something.

"I'm just going to enjoy tearing that dragon girl to shreds and sending her body to her precious Sarkhan piece by piece." Rinok's face twisted into a sadistic smile, one mirrored by Rhyne.

"Can I help? Please? If there's anything I know how to do, it's a good dismembering."

Vilhelm wasn't so sure. A dragon army could be useful in his plans of not so hostile takeover. "Why not corrupt her instead? You've both had dealings with her in the past, correct?"

The wild man spoke before the warrior. "I ran into her once. I know it's still in there, that wildness she can't shake. She's tried, but I know one day if we try hard enough she could go feral and revert to her true self."

"I could turn her into a warmonger if I wanted, use her as an eternal combatant, but she did something that can't be forgiven and for that she has to die. She tamed Sarkhan, one of the greatest warriors the Mardu ever knew. He sacrificed hundreds of warriors and achieved his spark ignition in the process. War is a part of him, and now he advocates for peace? I almost preferred him when he was mad." Rinok sighed. "No, the dragon girl has to die. I need to see his warrior spirit again. It's the only way to keep him from fading into shadow, away from the light of glory. It's our place as Mardu warriors!" He thrust a fist into the sky.

Vilhelm himself wasn't listening. He was lost in thought. If they were leaving the plane, how would he break it to Teysa? The great puppet of souls was now himself tethered to the Envoy of Ghosts, at the mercy of her craving for the exquisite sensation of his feeding. Vilhelm had thought a few times of draining her dry and being done with it all, or taking things to their next logical conclusion and making her a vampire to finally be rid of her demands. On more than one occasion he'd been so caught up in feeding that he'd almost bedded her. That hadn't been on his mind since before the Falkenrath had chosen him to join their family. Vilhelm had more important things to think about then, and had more important things to think about now. Those plans meant he needed the Orzhov, at least until the true nature of this research could be ascertained.

Yes, Vilhelm was satisfied with his pawns and how the pieces had fallen on the chessboard. The game would soon begin.


	53. Chapter 53

Planar Chaos

Chapter Fourteen: The Race is On

Teysa felt herself break out in a cold sweat. It had been three days and she hadn't so much as caught a glance of Vilhelm. She hobbled through the Orzhov compound as fast as her cane would allow. Her breath came in desperate gasps. Guild members commented on the wild look in her eyes in hushed tones as she passed them. Her heart hammered in her chest, but not the familiar hammering she'd begun to enjoy when Vilhelm fed on her. This hammering was accompanied by an icy feeling in her stomach that wouldn't go away.

She threw open the door to Vilhelm's room in surprise. She hadn't anticipated the door to be unlocked. His bed was made, all his possessions were in order just as they always were. It seemed as though Vilhelm was still occupying the space, but there was a sealed letter on his bed with her name on it.

"Fool!" She cried. "We could have been discovered."

In fact, that was what the letter alleged.

 _My Dearest Teysa,_

 _I must leave you for a brief period. Though it pains me to do so, you must know it is for your safety and mine. I believe Karlov is on the verge of discovering our secret. Even you must agree we have become bolder in recent history. Know that you will be on my mind and in my heart always._

 _Your Eternal Servant,_

 _Vilhelm._

It had been written so that it would read to prying eyes as a love letter. The Ghost Council would believe something as base as Teysa taking a lover. Vilhelm was counting on their hubris to cause them to accept the most obvious answer. They believed their envoy to be completely obedient after her last failed attempt to bring them to justice, and many still remembered the cheap thrills of life.

Vilhelm himself was on a different plane entirely with Rhyne awaiting Rinok's arrival. The underground maze had many openings onto the surface of Xerex, but they had chosen this one for its relatively straightforward descent.

"He's always late," Rhyne commented.

"He didn't try to go after the dragon girl again, did he?" Vilhelm asked.

"No. I think he drank too much at the huge Thrill Kill party last night with the Cult of Rakdos. Those guys know how to party." Rhyne licked his lips, recalling the sweet taste of pig blood dripping from the chainwalker, and then later from Exava, the blood witch. "Their guild champion is a firecracker of a woman too."

"Is that all you do with your life? Torture small animals and bed women?"

Rinok appeared as Vilhelm was finishing his question. "Of course not," he answered for Rhyne. "He also tortures large animals."

Rhyne shrugged. "Are you ready to go?"

They entered the maze and for a time, the path was straight, however they soon realized that it began curving to the left and making a corkscrew path.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Vilhelm asked Rhyne.

"Look, there's another pathway right over there. We can just jump to it. It's only three feet away." Rhyne took a short hop and wound up ten feet higher than he'd intended, and also behind his companions. "What the?"

"Drop back down here, we can try again," Rinok shouted.

Rhyne took the jump, but he landed on the underside of the path he'd been trying to access the first time. Or was it the top side? He was standing firmly rooted to the ground, but now it appeared Vilhelm and Rinok were hanging off of the earth.

"This place is mad," Rhyne said.

"It certainly seems that way," Vilhelm said. Rinok nodded in agreement. "We should just turn around and try another door."

The vampire and the warrior turned around, but the way back had vanished.

"We have to complete the maze," Vilhelm breathed, terror gripping him for the first time since Mikhail had stabbed him with the moonsilver dagger.

"What do you mean?" Rhyne demanded.

"He means that if we want to get out, we have to go forward," Rinok said, crossing his arms.

The three walkers startled when a giggle echoed through the maze.

 **0000**

"Face it, Marthel, we're lost." Kyari slouched, calling her hydra to heel. Sa'Raah and Brock slid off of the giant beast's back, but found themselves standing on the ceiling instead. Or was the hydra standing on the ceiling?

"Okay. I admit it. We're lost." Marthel rested his face in his hands. "Down isn't down, left is sometimes right, and forward seems to be two hundred seventy degrees behind us."

"It would take a madman to understand this place," Sa'Raah said, attempting to reach one of the hydra's heads so she could rejoin her comrades.

"Or a genius," Brock countered. "Urza was supposed to be the most brilliant of the ancient planeswalkers."

"Okay, a mad genius." Sa'Raah succeeded in contact with the hydra and was able to slide down its neck. "But if he got to the center I can't imagine how he got back out."

"He probably just planeswalked," Marthel said. "We could just walk off and back to the beginning and start all over at another entrance. Maybe there's only one real path and the rest are fakes like this one to weed out the undeserving."

Marthel pushed out against the walls of the plane, feeling for the blind eternities and the worlds that lay beyond. He felt for a plane, any plane he'd been before. He gripped onto the plane, but when he went to pull himself through the space between spaces, he hit a powerful wall that physically knocked the wind out of his lungs. Marthel began coughing, unable to catch his breath.

"Marthel? Marthel are you okay?" Kyari placed a hand on his back, using her magic to bring him back to stability.

"Urza you brilliant motherfucker," Marthel wheezed.

"What?" Brock asked, sliding down a different hydra neck. The beast had been trying its best to leave Brock hanging upside down off of the pathway above, but he finally caught one head.

"We can't planeswalk out of here," Marthel explained. "Once you enter the maze, you can't leave until you complete it."

"But can we summon things?" Sa'Raah said, a hint of fear creeping into her voice.

"Let me try," Marthel said. He rolled up his sleeves and flexed his fingers. He concentrated on Nadia, willing her to his side. The angel slowly materialized in front of him, but only after Marthel was visibly sweating and gasping for air did she become solid.

"Marthel?" Nadia seemed surprised. "You told me I would not be needed on this venture of yours. I'm rather happy to see you've decided I'm correct."

"Nadia, we can't planeswalk away."

The angel's face turned dark. "So we are to remain here until you either find what you're looking for or die trying?"

"That's a little grim," Kyari said. "I don't think we brought enough provisions to accommodate the hydra for more than a few days."

"The hydra?" Brock asked. "Kyari, what about us? What are we going to eat?"

"There has to be something in this maze that's edible," Sa'Raah said. "Why would Urza do something like this if everyone who tried would starve?"

"Maybe that's the point," Brock said. "What if whatever is in here is so dangerous that nobody should have it?"

"Brock, we talked about this," Kyari said, rubbing her temples.

"What if I'm right, Kyari? None of you have entertained the possibility that I might be right." Brock's voice grew louder.

"If you're right, we'll shower you with praise and help you destroy the research like we agreed to," Sa'Raah said. "A dragon never goes back on her word." Inside her, she still felt the creeping suspicion that she was not a true dragon. Niv Mizzet had guaranteed her place, but relying on others was something she'd learned from her mother. Before Dromoka, Sa'Raah had been feral, vicious, the Broodculler of Jund. Those dragons took what they wanted. They were dragons like her Aunt Atarka, savage and feared.

"I just want to make sure we're _all_ agreed on that," Brock emphasized the word, turning his eyes to Marthel. Nadia's feathers ruffled in response.

"Brock, I told you, I'm not going to take sides in this. I just want to know what's down there." Marthel knitted his eyebrows together. He'd been almost positive that Kyari had fully restored Brock's mind after their recent visit to Innistrad, but now he wasn't so sure.

Kyari, you said you fixed him.

I did, Marthel. This is just who Brock is.

It's not who he used to be. What happened?

Responsibility. Not all of us spend our time reveling in the complexity of life and the sheer magnitude of the fact that we exist.

"You're talking about me, aren't you?" Brock asked, accusation in his voice.

"Guys, I think we have bigger things to worry about," Sa'Raah said, peering around the hydra's neck. A large mechanical being that resembled a crab now blocked their path.

They heard a giggle echo from somewhere in the maze.

 **0000**

"Okay, everyone climb onto Maelstrom. Does everyone remember the plan?" Odom asked, giving Ashleigh a boost so she could clamber up the massive elemental's legs and onto the wide expanse of its back. Abby, who was being transported in a sling that Ashleigh could either wear in front of or behind her, made cheerful gurgling noises.

"Sverre and I each concentrate on one of the enchantments to keep Maelstrom at a manageable size, you work on the first part of navigating the maze," Ashleigh said, pulling Abby back around to the front and settling the creature in her lap. The gurgling noises turned into a birdlike squawk of delight at being able to see Ashleigh's face again.

"Excellent." Odom reached down to help Sverre for the last few feet.

"Why am I always concerned that you'll just detach your arm and leave me hanging here?" Sverre asked, a wry smile on his face.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. When have I ever done something like that?" Odom returned the smile.

"Tarkir, four years ago. I fell in a pond from thirty feet," Sverre chuckled.

"That was an accident," Odom insisted.

"You told me to have fun swimming."

"Boys!" Ashleigh barked. "The maze beckons."

She was partially right. The opening into the maze Maelstrom was standing in front of had widened itself in an attempt to accommodate the giant elemental.

"Okay. Signets at the ready. There doesn't seem to be any colored mana here, so our rocks are our only means of generating it. On my mark. One. Two. Go!" Odom cried.

Maelstrom shrunk down to about a third of his normal size, just small enough to barely squeeze through the opening of the maze.

"This is exciting," Oona said from her perch on Sverre's shoulder.

"It is, dear. With this step, I'm closer to achieving that which I lost all those years ago. I'll be closer to being able to spend the rest of eternity with you as well," Sverre said. "You'll finally have a king whose power matches your beauty."

"Still keen on keeping that promise, I see." Oona kissed her king on the cheek.

"I may be a necromancer who feeds on the essences of gods in order to achieve eternal life, but I am still a man of my word."

"They're so cute," Ashleigh said, leaning against Odom.

"I know. It's kind of gross." Odom put an arm around Ashleigh and directed Maelstrom forward. "Yo Broski, let's get this party started."

Maelstrom responded with his low rumbling and descended into the maze.

They had it mostly figured out in about an hour with the combination of Ashleigh's insanity and Odom's genius. Remaining on one's path took them forward, deviating, however, had consequences.

"So if we want to keep going forward, we should jump down and land on the bottom of that pathway over there?" Odom asked.

"That seems to be the right path, dear," Ashleigh replied.

Maelstrom followed their instructions, and in time he was scuttling along what had once been the ceiling while they navigated an infinite staircase. They had gone up thirty-two flights when they found a pathway leading off of it, but they progressed on what seemed to be the underside of the pathway, or maybe the entire maze was upside down now, they couldn't be entirely sure.

Abby was having the time of its short life riding around on the big glowy thing with Mommy and Daddy. It knew they were Mommy and Daddy because they had been present from Abby's earliest memories. They fed Abby, they took care of Abby, and from what the infant abomination knew of the emotion, they loved Abby.

Mommy was the one who wore soft clothes and was always looking at Abby with such love that Abby never wanted it to stop. Daddy was kind of like the big glowy thing, but different in that Daddy was smaller and not as loud. Daddy loved Abby too, and Daddy would always protect Abby. Abby knew it had to be true, because Daddy told Abby so. Mommy and Daddy wanted Abby to grow big and strong so that Abby could show the world how amazing Abby was.

Abby leaned back against Mommy and reached out for Daddy's hand with Abby's longest tentacle, hooking it around Daddy's littlest finger. Abby made a sort of purring noise that Abby hoped Mommy and Daddy understood as Abby saying "I love you".


	54. Chapter 54

Planar Chaos

Chapter 15: We Need to Go Deeper

"Did you hear that?" Rinok said, moving instinctively into a fighting stance. He drew one of his many weapons: a long, curved sword favored by Mardu raiding parties.

"It sounded like laughter," Vilhelm said, rubbing his temples in frustration. I'm surrounded by idiots, he thought to himself, I'll never get out of this maze.

Seems like a personal problem, a cold and clear voice responded directly into his mind. Vilhelm froze once again, eyes wide and nostrils flared. He took a long breath in, trying to filter though the powerful stenches of the men in his company to find the source of this mental intrusion.

You're a mind mage too, huh? Well you're no fun. You know what's coming next.

Rhyne had managed to scramble his way back onto the same path as his companions. He prodded Vilhelm with a single finger and stood there without a hint of shock on his face when Vilhelm rounded on the wild man with bared fangs and the most stereotypical vampire hiss in Rhyne's recent memory.

"Dude," Rhyne knit his eyebrows together. "Really? You're going to pull that with me? I could dismember you in so many different ways you wouldn't know your head from your ass by the time I'm done."

"Rhyne, Vilhelm, silence," Rinok barked, still retaining his stance. The command of authority fell on deaf ears.

"Shut up!" Rinok bellowed, finally catching the attention of the two bickering walkers. The vampire's face was expressionless, the wild man's angry.

"Who do you even think you are?" Rhyne turned on Rinok. "I eat whelps like you for breakfast."

"We have an unknown enemy in the area and you two are sitting there fighting like an old married couple. You're going to get us killed, you know that?"

"Nothing can take me on and live. I've killed kings and dragons and dragon kings." Rhyne crossed his arms haughtily.

"And I command the single largest army in the multiverse. My generals get the order, all the planes I have touched will burn with scorched and salted earth. I am War itself."

"If you children are done with your contest to see who has larger genitalia, I would like to point out a problem." Vilhelm was looking over the other walkers' shoulders.

"What is it now, bloodsucker?" Rhyne spat.

"That." The vampire gestured to a large, crablike creature that appeared to be made entirely of metal, easily as tall as the three planeswalkers stacked on top of each other and with a leg span of at least twice that length. Its joints made whirring and clicking sounds as it effortlessly navigated the pathways of Xerex.

"I, personally, am no good in any sort of physical fight and this being doesn't seem to have a will for me to dominate. Gentlemen, if you please?" Vilhelm made an ushering motion.

"Worthless bloodsuckers," Rhyne growled, rolling up his sleeves. Fire danced around his hands and his eyes took on a manic glow. He began shouting at the construct lumbering towards them. "I am Rhyne, Wildfire of Fiora and slayer of gods! You will fear me!" He reared back and went to lunge forward, but found himself stuck in place.

Tsk tsk tsk, a voice said into his mind, is that any way to treat your welcoming comittee? Here I am excited to have friends after such a long time and you're going to destroy the only thing that can lead you on a straight path. Well, Mr Wilfire of Fiora, forgive me for not allowing that.

Rhyne felt icewater begin pooling in his stomach. Rinok's sword clanged off the metal beast with little effect and Vilhelm was apparently nowhere to be seen. A large metal claw, almost spherical in shape, closed around Rhyne, trapping him inside. Its prize claimed, the crablike construct lumbered away with Rinok and Vilhelm unable to follow.

"Damn," Vilhelm cursed.

"Why? He wasn't going to help us much anyway," Rinok replied.

"No, but the best kind of suicide missions are carried out by willing pawns, wouldn't you agree?"

Rinok searched his memory and found that Vilhelm was, in fact, correct on this assessment. "There's something of a warrior in there after all."

"It is true, I once was in command of a small force during a territory conflict with a rival bloodline. The Voldaren were a force to be reckoned with, and even the Markov thought that my bloodline, the Falkenrath, were insane for attempting to curb Olivia's expansion."

"So you're from Innistrad. Fascinating plane, by the way. I love the eternal struggle between the angels and dark forces. It helps keep the plane fresh, in my opinion." Rinok breathed deeply through his nose. Xerex smelled stale to him, but there was a gentle breeze that pulled him to where the construct had taken Rhyne. "We need to go deeper."

00000

"Okay, Marthel, Sa'Raah, I need any sort of pyromancy you two have. I'll take point, you two on my flanks. Kyari, stay in the back and keep us from dying." Brock stood up on the hydra's back and leapt onto the ground, thankful his feet actually met the space he intented them to. His yellow robes swirled around him as he called upon his magic. He felt fire blazing around his hands, but didn't see it. The secrets of Ghostfire were supposedly lost, but there were some records and recollections buried deep within Tarkir and within the mind of Chandra Nalaar, whom the monks of Keral Keep viewed as a spiritual successor to Jaya Ballard, the founder of their order. Brock squared off against the crab construct, confident his team would obey his orders and fall in line behind him.

"I'm not just a healer, you know," Kyari sighed.

Just let him lead, Marthel said into her mind. It's where he's most comfortable.

Good to know, this voice was not Marthel's. Kyari caught her breath and locked down her mind the way Marthel had taught her. He wasn't a particularly strong telepath though, just like he wasn't a particularly strong pyromancer. The dark skinned walker in the white cloak was a mage of many talents, which he viewed as better than being a savant in one area. In some cases Kyari had to disagree and this was one of them. The new voice didn't go away.

Elf, huh? From Shandalar. That's a nice plane. You've got alot of knowledge in here, you know. I think we could have some enlightening discussions. If you could just let me in, please?

"Kyari!" Sa'Raah shouted, snapping the other elven woman out of her thoughts. The crab construct had broken through their line of defense and was making a beeline for Kyari and the hydra. Before Kyari had time to react, six of her hydra's heads smashed into the construct, knocking it over the edge of the pathway they stood on. The construct fell, sustaining several dents before righting itself and making its way unhindered along the pathways. Nadia, who had followed the creature downwards, had no such ease making her way back to the planeswalker she had sworn to protect.

"Jace Marthel," Nadia called out in warning as the construct clambered back up onto the path in front of the Maelstrom Mage.

"What is with this thing?" Marthel said, lashing out with alternating holy and demonic fire.

"It isn't confused by the maze at all, and it isn't affected by the gravitational shifts," Brock responded.

"Could it be because it's an artifact?" Sa'Raah ducked under a swinging claw. "It doesn't have a true mind, so it might be unaffected by all the defenses Urza added to this maze. Maybe it's a part of the defense."

Ooh, the voice in Kyari's head returned. She's clever. Maybe I'll take her.

In an instant Kyari knew what the voice was planning. That was the trouble with telepathy that Marthel often complained to her about. A door, once opened, could be passed through from either side.

"Sa'Raah look out!" Kyari leapt from the back of her hydra and pushed the dragon girl out of the way as a large metal sphere closed around her. Kyari beat against the inside with her fist in frustration.

"Kyari!" Marthel cried out, drawing Brock's attention from the legs the monk had been fighting. The crab construct began bounding away with Kyari in its clutches.

"What did you you?" Brock shouted, rushing at Sa'Raah. "You let that thing take her?"

"Brock," Marthel laid a steadying hand on his friend's shoulder, calling him to heel. "It isn't her fault."

"She jumped in front of me," Sa'Raah explained.

"We have to go after it. We have to get her back." Brock swallowed, reining in his anger. He turned to look at the now clearly distressed primordial hydra. "We need to go deeper."

000000

"I think we ought to stop for the night," Sverre said. "Oona's getting tired."

There wasn't any true day or night on Xerex, but Odom and Ashleigh agreed that it was time to stop. Maelstrom Wanderer was halted and settled in for what should be an uneventful night.

"Did anyone think to bring any food? I might be a semi-immortal necromancer but I still need to eat sometimes."

"Ash thought way ahead of you, Sverre. We've got provisions that should last us long enough to reach the center if we're making good progress. At least I still think we're going downwards." Odom reached down into a bag up to his shoulder. Sverre's eyes popped when he noticed the bag itself was too small to accomplish such a feat, even with Odom's ooziness.

"Just a spell I borrowed from a guy in a blue box." Ashleigh winked at no one in particular.

"Ash, you promised you'd leave the fourth wall breaks to me," Odom sighed.

"Fine." Ashleigh crossed her arms only to quickly resume snuggling Abby. The infant abomination was yawning, an act that came with an adorablly high pitched sigh. "Besides, I think someone else is getting tired too. But not before mommy feeds you."

"Is it going to be the syringe or the bottle?" Odom asked, still rifling through the bag.

"Syringe. It responds best to alternating meals of high and low viscosity mana."

Sverre sighed, unsure if he wanted to know the answer to the question that followed. "How do you even obtain such a thing?"

"Mostly from Broster Strudel," Odom explained. "It's kind of what he eats."

"So, back to my original inquiry," Sverre said, "what do we eat?"

"We eat this," Odom replied, pulling several baskets of bread and fruit out of the bag. "It doesn't look like much, and these are technically experimental and property of the Simic Combine, but how will they ever be tested unless we actually have to survive with no other food?"

"So what is it?" Sverre asked again.

"Take a bite," Ashleigh said, demonstrating with an apple. She continued speaking with her mouth full, "wait a few seconds, and viola!"

"You mean voila," Sverre said.

"Bless you." Odom smirked.

Sverre watched in curiosity and awe as the apple regenerated, appearing to never have been bitten in the first place. "Amazing," he breathed.

"It's wonderful," Oona said, crawling out of Sverre's hood and flitting down to sit on his knee.

"You might prefer something more like this," Ashleigh fished around in the basket and produced a ripe blackberry.

"Yes, excellent," Oona smiled, taking a bite out of one of the many drupelets. She took special care to keep the juice from staining her hair or dress. An experience from her youth had left the Queen of the Fae with pink hair for several weeks after a blackberry binge.

The drupelet regenerated within moments.

"So we won't starve," Sverre smiled. "Excellent."

"The fruit is the only regenerating thing," Odom cautioned. "The bread is gone once we've eaten it all.

"What about Abby?" Sverre asked.

"Once Abby's digestive system matures, it should be able to consume solid food like any other being," Ashleigh explained.

"And I'm guessing that's where the transparent stomach comes in?" Sverre asked between bites of a pear. He held the pear in one hand, the other held the blackberry delicately over Oona's head. She had assumed a lounging position on Sverre's thigh while he fed her the blackberry like he fed her grapes back on Helheim.

"Of course." Odom gave Sverre a puzzled look. "It's like you don't know me at all, man."

Ashleigh finished feeding herself and Abby and proceeded to rock the infant abomination to sleep while singing a lullaby she recalled from her childhood. It was something about pretty little horses, she couldn't remember all the words and hummed the tune in the gaps of her memory. Abby gradually stopped moving its tentacles and closed its black eyes. The cooing and gurgling noises ceased and were replaced with soft breathing.

In the quiet, they heard the telltale clanking and whirring of an artifact creature.

"I think we've upset someone, Sverre," Odom said. He looked over his shoulder, trying to locate the construct.

Not upset, necessarily, a voice said into Ashleigh's mind. Ashleigh knew this voice wasn't one of the usual voices. It was too clear, too coherent. She could sense the mind on the other side and it was filled with all sorts of fun spells for her to borrow. She also could see exactly where the hidden artifact creature stood.

No, but my baby is trying to sleep, Ashleigh responded to the voice. So you've upset me. Hey, that's a neat spell there. Can I borrow it?

She used the voice's spell to destroy the artifact creature and a spell of her own to terminate their mental connection. Gears tumbled from the pathway above them, falling to either side.

"Ash, have I told you lately that I love you?" Odom said.

"I don't believe you've ever actually said it before now," Ashleigh smiled smugly.

"You two are so cute it's almost gross," Sverre mocked, sharing a satisfied smile of his own with Oona. "That said, we might want to find out who sent the creature in the morning. In order to do that..."

"We need to go deeper," the three planeswalkers said in unison.


	55. Chapter 55

Planar Chaos

Ignitions: The Power of Knowledge

Lisandra sighed as the druidic ritual in Vitu-Ghazi came to a close. Yet again she did not feel the overwhelmingly warm presence of Mat'Selesnya her peers professed so much desire for. She had been born into this guild and as a little girl she always asked her parents one thing after every ritual.

"Mommy, Daddy, what does Mat'Selesnya feel like?"

They would respond with vague nothings about warmth and peace and wholeness that soon left Lisandra feeling just as hollow as the druidic rituals intended to induce this feeling. By the time she was an adolescent, she determined that if Mat'Selesnya existed it wanted nothing to do with her. By the time she neared adulthood, she decided it didn't exist at all. Mat'Selesnya was a group delusion endorsed by Trostani to maintain power over the guild.

Lisandra ducked out of the crowd and lost herself in the streets of Ravnica. On these walks she felt she understood nature better than the Selesnya. She certainly understood human nature better. Human nature was duplicitous and secretive, just like her. She feigned belief all the while plotting her escape with the help of her books, troves of forbidden knowledge that lay innocently on a page bound in homunculus leather. These secret treasures were hidden in a hollow tree that stood abandoned in an alleyway surrounded by buildings.

"You're just like me, you know," Lisandra greeted the tree with her usual speech. "You were destined for greatness but Mat'Selesnya never appeared to make it so. How can it be my destiny to be a great leader of the guild if I can't even feel the presence of the god I supposedly serve?"

Lisandra sighed. Her younger sister, Emmara, had felt the presence of Mat'Selesnya from day one. She was the perfect selfless follower, a model for the human acolytes to aspire to. Elves held a higher status in the Selesnya for their inborn connection to nature. Lisandra seemed to possess everything that was wrong with humanity in the body of an elf, making her true self all the more loathsome to her peers.

They weren't her friends anymore. Friends would listen to your concerns and help you with your crisis of faith, not brush it off as something to be ignored until it went away.

Lisandra tucked her books into her robes, unable to think clearly enough to read them. She would risk taking them home, even though she'd read through each one at least a dozen times. They brought her comfort where her real life never could. She was even beginning to master some of the magic in the spellbooks, minor illusions and such that could fool her peers into thinking she still maintained faith when it became too hard to keep up the charade.

"Lisandra Tandris, where have you been?" Her father's cross voice grated on her ears when she entered her family's dwelling. Emmara and their mother were seated in the corner working on a needlepoint table covering they'd been creating over the last few weeks.

Lisandra produced the wrapper of a street vendor's confection, something her parents would take her to get as a special treat after rituals when she was small.

"Sorry, Father," Lisandra said, feigning the emotion flawlessly. "I got a little hungry and this was all I could think of."

"Of course." Her father smiled. "If you wanted something sweet you could have told us and we could have gone together."

"I knew Mother and Emmara needed to finish their table cover."

"How thoughtful of you, Lisandra," her mother said, smiling approvingly.

Lisandra moved on to her room, stashing the books underneath her mattress. She stretched out on her bed with one of the volumes, the spell book, and propped herself up on her elbows to read it. Focusing magic was something she still had trouble with, but she felt her own improvement. This book contained true knowledge, not warm and fuzzy wishes slathered with a generous helping of dreams.

At the first sign of anyone coming, she hastily hid the book beneath her pillow and knelt on the floor in prayer or meditation, whichever her parents or sister decided it was.

"Good night, Lisandra," her father said, closing the door to her room without disturbing her.

It was time, Lisandra knew it. Tonight had to be the night she left for good. Her father's smile when she produced the wrapper flashed into her mind and she winced. Stupid sentimentality would just get in her way, besides her father couldn't ever understand what it was like to be destined for something only to never feel the pull of that destiny and instead be pushed by everyone around you.

"I don't believe in destiny," she whispered to her books, clutching them tightly to her chest. "I do believe in you, though, and in what you represent, knowledge."

The Selesnya living quarters had never even heard of a lock because why would a fellow believer wrong their neighbor? Lisandra was able to sneak out of her house quickly. Escaping the guild complex, however, would take more time. There were several tunnels formed by the Armada Wurms she could use to exit, but they were patrolled to varying degrees. Lisandra whispered a spell that was supposed to make her invisible and crept past the night patrols on her toes to avoid making noise.

As she was nearing a tunnel, one of the large wolves favored as a mount by some of the guards raised its head and took a long sniff of the air. Its ears flattened against its skull and it let out a low growl. The luminescent yellow eyes seemed to pierce right through Lisandra's spell. She whispered another spell under her breath and an illusory rabbit bounded out of a bush nearby, catching the wolf's attention and causing the guards to laugh off its behavior as hunting prey rather than hunting tresspassers. Lisandra ducked down into the yawning chasm created by the tunneling of Armada Wurms and started running. The air became dank and rancid the deeper the hole went, but Lisandra kept running even as her legs screamed for her to stop. She didn't have time to stop, though. She had to keep going. The minute she stopped, she was done, caught, and back in the guild she hated with people who would hate her.

The darkness of the tunnel was pierced by dim lamplight. She exited into a darkened alleyway with a lamp at the far end and started walking towards it.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lisandra saw a humanoid shape. Her heart quickened in her chest as the horror stories told by her parents about people who didn't believe in Mat'Selesnya crowded the front of her mind. They were savages who killed indiscriminately. They waged war and kidnapped souls to be their slaves. They toyed with life and had no regard for its sanctity, warping it to their delirious minds' image simply because they could.

"You wouldn't happen to be lost, would you, young lady? Do you need help finding your parents?" the cloaked figure asked, his voice deep and genuinely curious.

Lisandra resolved to not show any fear. "No," she said emphatically. "I'm not lost. But if you could help me find some more of these, that'd be swell." She produced her books.

"I can't find you more of these, but if knowledge is what you seek, that I can find for you if you want to come with me." Lisandra felt a strong arm wrap around her shoulders and she was directed back down the alleyway.

Lisandra couldn't refuse even if she wanted to. Knowledge was all she sought, she didn't care about the source. If it came from a tall man in a dark cloak, then so be it.

"May I ask your name, young lady?" he had a slight lisp, like he was talking around something in his mouth. A dying torch caught the edges of long fangs that protruded over his bottom lip.

"Lisandra," she replied. " And you are?"

"My name is Mirko, and I am the key to your new life with the Dimir." Mirko stopped in front of a dilapidated building. A faintly glowing sigil that resembled an eye with spider legs was the only thing differentiating it from the rest of the alley. Mirko traced a symbol over the top of the glowing sigil and the wall gave way to another tunnel, this one leading to a room occupied by two other men. One was a vampire like Mirko. Lisandra felt a shiver run down her spine. This had to be Szadek. Trostani had spoken of this man only once, and it was a warning of the temptation he sowed in peoples' hearts. The other man must be Lazav, Lisandra thought.

"This is the one?" Lazav raised an eyebrow.

"Have I ever been wrong before?" Mirko cocked his own eyebrow in return.

"She came willingly," Szadek said. "That's all that matters."

The ancient vampire looked Lisandra in the eye and she felt his voice inside her mind. Welcome, young lady, to the Dimir. I hope you do not disappoint us.

I won't. Lisandra said back.

000000

"Today's the day," Lisandra sang in her quarters as she donned her Dimir guild robes. They rarely held the kind of ceremonies she had grown accustomed to among the Selesnya, but today was special. She had proven herself to Szadek and Lazav in her last five years of service and now she was being given an incredibly high honor that would make her more useful to the guild and give her access to even more knowledge.

Today was the day Lisandra shed her mortal coil and became a vampire. Typically these things were done by Szadek himself, but since it had been Mirko to choose Lisandra for the guild in the first place, the younger vampire felt it was only proper that he be the one to usher her into her new life, or unlife as the case may be.

Mirko knocked on the doorframe of Lisandra's room. "Are you ready?"

"Almost," Lisandra turned around and blinked several times. She had thought she'd get used to Mirko's propensity to walk around without a shirt on, but it still sometimes caught her, and the rest of the mortal Dimir agents, off guard.

"Like what you see?" Mirko joked, flexing his arm and chest muscles.

"I'm sure you already know the answer," Lisandra said, rolling her eyes. "Is that something that goes away after you turn?"

"Not really. At least I hope it doesn't. I enjoy being admired." Mirko flashed his fangs in what was supposed to be a smile.

"You're so weird," Lisandra laughed.

"And you have very pretty veins. Being out of the sunlight did you some good. They're incredibly blue now and very very sexy." Mirko licked one of his fangs.

"Such a charmer, as always," Lisandra sighed.

"You like it," Mirko teased.

"Anything you can tell me about this ceremony?" Lisandra pulled the conversation back to a safer topic.

"It's less of a ceremony and more you and me alone in a room with Szadek." Mirko draped an arm around Lisandra's shoulders just as he had the night they first met. He leaned down and whispered in her ear "I promise I'll be gentle."

She pushed him away. "Can you not bite my ear, please?"

"It was only a little nibble," Mirko feigned offense.

Lisandra put her hands on her hips and scowled at him.

"I will miss the blushing. That's something that goes away." Mirko smiled again, this time at the obvious pink that refused to fade from Lisandra's cheeks.

Szadek appeared behind Mirko. "You're late, Mirko. I hope you aren't detaining our latest addition to our immortal ranks."

"As if I'd ever pollute my fangs with law magic," Mirko scoffed.

"I turned you too young," Szadek sighed. "You have yet to outgrow your impetuous playboy phase. You're lucky you are good at your job, Mirko."

"You thought I was too young, look at her. Such a pretty young thing," Mirko purred, causing Lisandra's cheeks to steadily grow redder.

"Enough flirtations," Szadek said. "She at least maintains a professional level of detachment from her peers."

"Thank you, Szadek," Lisandra squeaked.

"If you want to tear into him, by all means. You have my permission. Once this is complete you'll be like us and can survive a tussle with a vampire. As for the deed, you'll need to unfasten your guild robe. The neckline might get in the way."

Lisandra's hand flew to her throat, completely covered by fabric. She hadn't thought of that. The Dimir guild sigil that held it in place was unfastened and the fabric fell away to reveal a throat as white as the rest of her skin with prominent blue veins. Mirko's eyes seemed to bulge and a pearl of saliva formed at the end of one of his fangs.

"Now, Mirko," Szadek chided, "you said something about being gentle."

Mirko turned back to Lisandra once more, placing a hand on her neck to hold her steady. It wasn't necessary, she willed herself to not move or show any trace of pain. "So fragile," he whispered into her neck, his lips brushing against her skin and sending tingles down her spine, "yet so willing. You're sure this is what you want?"

Lisandra looked Szadek in the eye as she answered Mirko's question, "I'm positive."

If it were possible to gently stab two needles into someone's jugular, Mirko achieved the closest approximation to that act he could. Lisandra stood still as a statue and for a moment he was concerned that she might be in pain or worse, but her pulse never once quickened to dangerous speeds, instead it slowly petered out to stillness. Once her heart had ceased beating, Mirko closed the puncture wounds with a quick kiss. Lisandra reacted to this by playfully pushing him away, testing the boundaries of her new strength and endurance. Mirko wound up across the room.

Sometimes vampiric rites left changes on the neonates, and Lisandra was among their ranks. She remained essentially unchanged except for her hair. Instead of the soft golden strands that marked her unmistakably as the sister of Emmara Tandris, her hair had darkened to a deep blue shade of black that Mirko thought suited her much better. Szadek had left the room some time ago once he was certain the rite was going to proceed without a hitch. Mirko was safe to resume his relentless flirtations.

He pulled Lisandra close, holding her gently against his chest, "And now my dear we can be together forever, how's about a kiss for a job well done?"

Lisandra consented, and as Mirko leaned in he found her own newly grown fangs stabbed through his bottom lip.

"I hope you like lip piercings," Lisandra said, smirking. She extracted her fangs and strode from the room with her head held high.

000000

This was wrong. Nobody was supposed to recognize her, but now everyone was out and about because of the damned maze and they'd spotted her. Not her former friends, not even her old mentors. It was her parents. All Lisandra could do was run, ducking from shadow to shadow in order to escape. She was running out of street. Maybe if she clambered up a building?

That plan was cut short by a wurm erupting from the ground and blocking her path. Behind her she heard her parents crying out her name.

"Lisandra! Lisandra come home!"

"Your destiny! Can't you see we need you?"

"Lisandra your duty to your guild! You can't abandon it!"

"The prophecy! Your fate!"

"I will not go back," Lisandra shouted to the sky with her eyes closed. "I refuse!"

She opened her eyes and found herself somewhere else entirely, in a swamp at dusk surrounded by hybrid creatures that appeared to have been sewn together.

"Uh oh..."

"Excuse me," a young man said, pushing his way through the artificial hybrids, but what are you doing in my swamp?"

"I'm not really sure," Lisandra said. "I sort of wound up here by mistake. Where exactly is here?"

"You're in Moorland," the young man said, then he bowed hastily. "Forgive my manners, I'm Geralf Cecani, head of the noble house Cecani. You are?"

"My name is Lisandra, I'm not exactly from around here."

"No, I haven't seen any vampires here in a long time. They tend to congregate in Stensia and Nephalia."

"Um, Mr. Geralf, what are these things?" Lisandra gestured to the stitched hybrids.

"They're my Skaabs. I'm going to be the best Skaaberen in all of Innistrad one day, but first I have to best my sister, Gisa. She has no vision, simply raising the dead with her whistling. I, on the other hand, take the best parts of each corpse for my Skaabs. They are elite and they are perfect."

This young man knew how to manipulate life and death. That wasn't something Lisandra had learned from Mirko and Szadek. Perhaps, she thought, I had better stick around and learn this strange art. I can bring it back and teach the rest of the guild.


	56. Chapter 56

Planar Chaos

Chapter 16: Lisandra

Rhyne was unceremoniously dumped out of the crab construct's claws and onto a platform that stood, for the most part, by itself somewhere in the maze. He rolled across the ground and came to a halt with the aid of a tent stake.

He sat up, rubbing the back of his head and surveying his surroundings. A tent was erected in the middle of the platform and surrounded by several piles of books. There were no cooking supplies and Rhyne couldn't see a fire pit. He did see cages, though, three of them. Two were empty, and one was occupied by a familiar face.

"Kyari Alexiona," Rhyne growled. "Why am I not surprised you went and got yourself captured?"

Kyari narrowed her eyes. "You're here too."

"You're in a cage, though." Rhyne stood up and crossed the platform. He examined the metal of the bars. "What is this? How can it hold a planeswalker?"

"As you've probably discovered, we can't planeswalk off of Xerex. We're stuck here until we complete the maze."

"Then who lives here?" Rhyne turned to look back at the tent surrounded by its books.

"I don't know. All I know is that there are two of us and three cages. Someone else is probably going to be joining us soon." Kyari sighed. She hoped Brock was doing okay taking care of her hydra.

"Three cages, huh? Well you're going to have to wait for another companion of yours to get caught. I'm out of here." Rhyne took a running leap off of the edge of the platform and discovered that he wasn't leaping away from the annoying elf walker and the cages, but back towards them.

"I hate this place!" Rhyne bellowed.

"I'm not a fan of it either," Kyari said, leaning back against the bars of her cage.

"Why do you just sit there in that prison? You're too complacent. You're boring."

"Rhyne, I fail to see what this line of dialogue is doing to get us out of here."

Rhyne started laughing hysterically. "You think I'm going to help you escape? Oh that's rich. Kyari, the only reason I would help you escape would be so I could eat you later when I start to starve. You're lucky I don't do it right now. Devouring allies is a common way to gain strength on Jund, as I'm sure your petty research has taught you."

The crab that brought Rhyne to this platform reached one leg up over the edge and struck the planeswalker in the spine, knocking him prone. He was then swept into the cage next to Kyari, still paralyzed. Rhyne's breath came in wheezing gasps.

Kyari huddled in the far corner of her cage, as far away from Rhyne as she could get. The unstable walker frightened her. She could almost feel waves of rage rolling off of him. They made her nauseous, or maybe that was the smell the loner gave off. She'd been in goblin dens that smelled fresher. At the same time that she feared him, she also pitied him. Rhyne had no real friends, no true allies he could count on. Rinok certainly wouldn't come for him, and as far as Kyari could tell, Vilhelm was hiding something from everyone. Rhyne's own attitude hadn't done him any favors, she thought. He didn't view allies as people, but as tools to achieve his own selfish ends.

Even through all of this, it took every ounce of Kyari's resolve not to heal him. She knew the stunning blow wouldn't prove fatal, having experienced it herself, but the discomfort wasn't something she wished on anyone.

Rhyne's wild eyes fixed on Kyari and fire sputtered to life around his hands before dying quickly. He couldn't get the breath to power the spell, but his intent was plain. He'd lash out at Kyari to sate his bloodlust and rage.

Maybe she could leave him like that after all.

000000

"Marthel, Sa'Raah, how do you drive this thing?" Brock asked, sitting astride the hydra. It had refused to move thus far, leaving the three planeswalkers with a dilemma. They could continue forward on foot and leave the hydra, or they were stuck with it until it decided to follow their lead.

"That's just it, Brock," Sa'Raah replied, "you can't 'drive' a large creature like you'd drive a cart."

"Well, that isn't necessarily true. There are spells for taking control of things," Marthel countered.

"Kyari wouldn't like it," Sa'Raah said.

"Kyari isn't here." Brock closed his eyes and took a calming breath. "If anyone is going to take control of this hydra it'll be me, that way she can get mad at me when she finds out."

"You're going to give her that 'greater good' speech again," Marthel said it as more of a fact than a question.

"You know she doesn't believe in that, at least not to the extent you do," Sa'Raah said.

Brock groaned, "I know. And she hates anyone doing anything to this hydra in particular."

"I don't see what the problem is," Nadia said as Marthel directed her back onto their path. The angel had attempted to follow the construct that took Kyari and was just now able to navigate her way to the group once more. "This beast isn't cooperating, why do we need to bring it?"

"Beasts on Shandalar are a little different than they were on Bant, Nadia," Marthel explained. "And Kyari has formed a special connection with this one, sort of like how I have a special connection with you out of all the angels."

"That is different," Nadia said emphatically. "I gave you my sigil, I chose you as my hero."

"And Kyari chose this hydra," Marthel said. "It's different than a pet, Nadia."

The angel crossed her arms. Something about this maze world didn't sit right with her, but she couldn't put her finger on what exactly it was.

"Marthel, do you have anything I can use to help me with this spell?" Brock held out his hand.

The Maelstrom Mage hunted around in his cloak for anything he could find that would allow Brock to cast the spell he was thinking of. He produced a variety of guild signets.

"These should work," Brock said, taking the signets. Unlike some of the other walkers Marthel knew, Brock had never taken the time to gain membership into Ravnican guilds. As such he didn't have his own signets. "You mind if I keep these?" He held up two in particular, one decorated with the fist of the Boros and the other with the blue triangle of the Azorius, symbolizing their rigid hierarchy.

"By all means, although I have to say I'm not surprised. You haven't really given up on that Soratami upbringing, have you?" Marthel smirked, but there was a sadness in his eyes.

"Order is necessary in some situations, Marthel. This is one of them." Brock closed his eyes, focusing on the spell. He sensed the hydra's mind and grabbed on, preparing himself for the wild ride that was forcibly taking control of something far larger than himself.

"Order by whose definition?" Marthel said under his breath.

"I heard that," Brock said.

Sa'Raah sat back and let them bicker. She was instead focusing intently on the hydra, making note of any changes that occurred when it lost its free will to Brock. The first thing that happened was it became incredibly quiet, its low rumbling voices going silent one by one. Its eyes took on a strange character, almost like they were glazed over by the effect of some drug. Then it stopped moving, its heads fixed in a forward position, the necks all still. It could have been a sculpture, Sa'Raah thought, it was that still.

"Kyari isn't going to be happy about this," Sa'Raah muttered, mostly to herself. The hydra's wildness was gone, completely subsumed by Brock's own powerful will. Sa'Raah couldn't help but think back to her first encounter with Rhyne and what he'd said about her becoming weak, about her losing her own wildness.

A flash of anger burned through her like dragon fire. How dare Brock do something like that to a beautiful, savage creature of the wild places? He deserved to burn.

Before it could even manifest, the fire sputtered out. She heard her mother's voice soothing her during the execution of the heretic Anafenza.

"The greater good is a strange thing, my child," Dromoka had said. "Sometimes we make decisions we know others would not approve of in order to help them."

00000

Lissy you know if you wanted me to come for a visit, you could just ask.

I know, Ash, I just never thought I'd run into you here.

How long has it been, old friend, years?

At least. I'll never forget the day you found me slumming it with the Cecani siblings, trying to tease out their secrets of life and death.

And how long have you been lost in Xerex?

Months at the least, maybe a year or two? I really don't know. The lack of day and night is throwing me off.

Vampires don't sleep, either. Where are you staying? I've got some friends I want you to meet.

The necromancer, his fairy wife, and your oozy lover?

Not to mention my precious little ball of emptiness.

Is that what you're calling it?

Well technically its name is Abby.

Short for Abomination?

What else am I supposed to call this unholy ball of mutated adorable biomass?

Lisandra gave a mental sigh. I suppose there's no other word. I'll send a crab to come get you. They're remarkably well behaved for creatures with no true brains.

The dark haired vampire strode around her campsite. She glanced over at the two planeswalkers trapped in their cages. She wasn't hungry. They'd get to live a little longer. Her time in this maze had taught her just how long she could go without consuming the psychic essences she'd practically gorged herself on in the service of the Dimir. It was a surprisingly long time. Then again, the implicit immortality that came with vampirism probably had something to do with it.

"You two had better behave for our company, an old friend of mine is coming to visit," she said.

The elf woman, Kyari, spoke first, muttering under her breath, "I hope they fare better than we do."

The man, a human, merely snarled at Lisandra.

"Have some manners, please. Were you raised by wolves? Wait. Don't answer. I'll just find out myself. Hm..." She skirted the edges of the man's mind, gleaning the information she needed. "Nope. Native of Fiora, raised in a stable household. Son of a butcher, not wealthy but not poor either. Trained under the gorgon Vraska to get your revenge on your father's killer. How noble. Once that was done, you decided to roam the multiverse doing whatever the hell you wanted to, it seems. Is that growl supposed to be intimidating or did all the time you spent on Alara where Jund used to be rattle your brain that much, Rhyne?"

"You know about the conflux?" Kyari looked puzzled. "You're far too young to have heard anything about that."

"You aren't the first planeswalkers to come through here, you know. I've learned a lot about the goings on just by plundering people's minds for news before I suck what's left out." The vampire smiled, revealing her long fangs. She'd taken care to learn how to speak properly and without Mirko's lisp. They may as well have not been there.

"And you killed them all to stay alive, just like you're going to kill us?" Kyari asked.

"Only when I absolutely have to. I hate wasting knowledge, as you can see by all my books. I never travel without them. It's kind of my downfall, really, because these are what led me to this forsaken plane in the first place. Every book you see here was meticulously collected for its references to this place and the man whose research lies at the center. They're all about Urza, or at least they're believed to be about him," Lisandra explained.

"Marthel would think this is a treasure trove," Kyari said involuntarily.

"He's the one with the angel that gets confused for Beleren a lot, right?" Lisandra asked.

"Um, well, yes," Kyari said.

"If he wants to read my books, by all means he can if he ever finds me."

Kyari glanced to the side. "You know, if we all work together we could get to the center and get out once we see what's down there. There's three groups of us. Marthel put us together in order to form some kind of super team to make it to the center of Xerex. Then there was some arguing over what we'd do with the research down there once we arrived and we sort of split off into factions."

"I don't care what happens to it, I just want to know what it is and what it does," Lisandra said. Her resolve was plain on her face. She would not leave this maze until she had solved it. The crabs couldn't get her to the center, but they could venture out and bring her more minds to consume until she had amassed enough knowledge to solve this greatest of puzzles, grander than the Dragon's Maze that ran her off of Ravnica in the first place. The life of a planeswalker wasn't something that she hated, though. Being able to leave a place and not be followed was nice, especially since Mirko seemed determined to harass her every chance he got.

"Personally there are some hands I'd like for it to not fall into, namely the hands of that one over there and his cohorts, two men named Rinok and Vilhelm. I don't trust them, certainly not any farther than I can throw them. One perverts his life giving power into a weapon of war, the other hides his true self. And Rhyne over there doens't give half a damn about anyone other than himself."

"Not entirely true," Lisandra said. "I'm sensing a name... Sa'Raah? The clever dragon girl?"

Kyari's wide eyes turned to Rhyne.

"I'm getting something like corruption, wildness, savagery, weakness, strength, allies, devour, it's all very jumbled. Oi. My head hurts." Lisandra massaged her temples. "You're lucky I'm being nice to you, Rhyne, I could just rip out what I want."

"And I could destroy you without lifting a finger," Rhyne growled. "You will release me, woman."

"Not if you're going to behave like that I won't. Those bars are linked up to a source of necromantic energy. If you so much as think about trying to escape, I flip the switch and drain the life from your body, converting it into colorless mana that I can then use to tap into the other artifacts I've found here."

Kyari's face went white. "You don't mean..."

Lisandra interrupted her, "Yep. I found a book written entirely about Ashnod's altar in my travels. I figured out how to make one myself. Old walkers weren't so concerned with keeping themselves a secret it seems, considering that book should never have even been on Theros in the first place, but Phenax parted with it for the right price."

"That's horrifying. Don't you care at all about the people you're killing?" Kyari asked.

Lisandra shrugged. "I preserve the important bits."

"Our ideas of what is important are very different, I believe," Kyari said.

"Opinions differ, Kyari, but our goal is the same. Getting out of this maze. Now you can be with me, and live longer than your silent feral friends over there, or you can be against me and it's a coin flip over whose mind I devour first. Do we have a deal?" Lisandra reached her hand through the bars of Kyari's cage.

Kyari reluctantly took the vampire's cold hand. "Yes. We have a deal."

"Good." The door of Kyari's cage popped open. "Would you like to take a look through my library and maybe have a discussion about what you've learned about hydras in your travels?"


	57. Chapter 57

Planar Chaos

Chapter 17: Rhyne the Wildfire

Rhyne sat in the corner of his cage deep inside his own thoughts. He barely paid attention to Kyari bargaining with the vampire woman that had trapped him inside this cage. For the first time in a long time, he could honestly say he had no idea what to do next. In the time since avenging his father, he had wandered wherever the winds took him, allowing something other than his conscious mind to guide his journey through the multiverse.

He hadn't felt this way in a long time, not since he'd avenged his dear father. Rhyne almost felt empty, not hungry but actually empty. He mulled over what Kyari and the others said about allies.

It was silly, really, to think that he, the Wildfire who was all-consuming, would even want to consider sharing his life with a being he wouldn't later sell out or kill for his own (typically culinary) gain. That was the way it had been for so long, when even being able to eat was a luxury. His days on Jund returned to the forefront of his mind.

The world was kill or be killed, devour or be devoured. Clans existed, but without a clan of his own Rhyne was seen as an easy target. Attempts to join other clans had failed spectacularly, with one notable failure being the Nel Toth.

"I cannot allow you to join our clan, Rhyne," the elder, a man named Kael, said morosely. "You carry a darkness in you, the same darkness that consumed my former pupil. The omen is unmistakable, yours is a dark fate, young man, dark indeed."

Bitter and afraid, he had left the Nel Toth in search of a place where he could belong. In those travels, he had nearly lost his life to a zombie dragon commanded by a woman with incredible power.

Rhyne ducked underneath the rotting dragon's swinging tail. The two warriors rose from their broken heaps and seized the shaman, holding her still so the woman in control of their corpses could interrogate her terrified captive. She demanded knowledge of a circle, the Circle, the meeting place of the Nel Toth. When the shaman refused, the woman slit her throat. Rhyne couldn't help but lick his lips at the sight of the fresh red blood welling from the shaman's neck.

He didn't have much time to ogle. The shaman was raised as swiftly as the warriors had been and made to indicate the direction of the circle by her new mistress.

"Skaal Kesh is unstoppable!" she cheered to herself. "Soon I will have my day!"

"And what will you do when your day has come and gone?" Rhyne said tentatively.

The woman turned, surprised at the presence of another warrior. She readied herself in a fighting stance and her warriors followed suit. The shaman took up its own pose that Rhyne had seen others adopt to summon thorns and other elemental beasts.

Rhyne held up his hands. "I'm not of the Nel Toth, and certainly we've never met. I'm not of this world, but from far away."

"I have seen the death fields of Grixis, warrior, I understand there are other worlds," she growled. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't borrow you as I have borrowed them?" She gestured to her resurrected corpses, one merely a fire-scorched skeleton.

"I too knew vengeance," Rhyne said, reaching out a hand. "My father was murdered, framed for an attempt on someone's life, someone with power. I destroyed his killer utterly in a blaze of angered flame, and I felt empty. I achieved my purpose after long years of training. Then I asked myself, now what? I went wherever the wind took me, and I found myself here."

"You dare take away from me my right to revenge?" The woman's hands danced with a green fire that made Rhyne instinctively shrink away.

"No," Rhyne said, "I just want you to know that when your quest is done you won't be alone."

The woman began laughing. "If what you say is true, that I will not sate my hunger by devouring those who would have killed me long ago, then I assure you I will find a new purpose, a grander purpose than wandering the world as a vagabond on the whims of the breeze."

Rhyne had left it at that. He parted ways with the necromancer and continued his travels in Jund, each day more and more savage than the last. It would be days, weeks even, between contact with other humanoids, and always there was the threat of dragons. They were the great gods of Jund, worshiped by every being from the lowest goblin to the most powerful of shamans. Rhyne himself occasionally prayed to the great beasts to be merciful and leave a carcass half eaten so he could have a meal.

The tusked beasts were by far the worst, though. They squealed with rage at the slightest provocation and being gored could mean certain death. When he was alone, Rhyne had lived in perpetual fear of these beasts. Without someone to tend his wounds, he would surely have died. Better to throw whatever lackey he'd collected into the beast's path to take the hit for him. He knew he could always planeswalk away, but something about Jund kept him there. The winds of change he'd followed so religiously had died, replaced instead by the need to survive in such a savage hell.

He had spent three days inside the corpse of a dragon, brought down by an elven warrior with blood streaked hair the color of Fiora's wheat fields. Her name was whispered across Jund in the same hushed tones as the names of the great dragons. People spoke of Karrthus, but they barely breathed the name of the Broodculler. He ate the beast's flesh raw, not daring to light a fire and expose his location. His hunger at the time might have made it impossible to think of anything else other than consuming the beast. Its heart had already been claimed by the Broodculler, but Rhyne wasn't in a position to be picky.

Perhaps he'd stayed to prove something to himself, to prove that he was the greatest for surviving completely alone. Maybe he wanted to run into the woman again, just to prove his point. It wasn't until that woman, Meren, had begun making good on her promise to find a grander purpose that Rhyne finally walked away from Jund. He left a changed man, more jaded, irreverent, and impulsive than he'd been upon his arrival. The bodies left in his wake were typically gnawed on in some way, be they beast or humanoid.

He also had developed a habit of snarling when provoked, something that his captor had noted. She could mock him all she wished, but Rhyne knew something she didn't. He knew women. He knew exactly how to get her to play into his hands. She'd release him, then he'd find a way to kill both her and the peace-loving elf in the other cage. He licked his lips. The meat of their thighs would be delicious slow roasted over a hickory fire. Their bleeding hearts would burst in his mouth as he devoured their essence and their limited strength. Then he'd go and find the dragon girl and teach her the ways of Jund once more.


	58. Chapter 58

Planar Chaos

One Shots: Ash and Lissy

"Geralf, you're being paranoid," Lisandra said. "Nobody is following us."

"You wouldn't be so dismissive if you ever met my sister," the Skaaberen mumbled, hefting his sack of body parts.

"I have met your sister," Lisandra scoffed. The pouring rain beat down on their thick leather coats. Lightning crackled, illuminating the soft mounds of cloud in alarming sharpness. Lisandra tilted her head forward and water poured out of the front of her tricorn. She sighed, tempted to abandon the hat altogether. It wasn't doing much to keep the rain off anyway.

"Then you should know to never underestimate Gisa's disregard for the rules of necrowarfare."

"I'm also certain your sister isn't the one following us. She's leagues away, Geralf. How could she get here so quickly and so quietly? That whistle of hers can be heard for miles."\

"Then who is following us, Lisandra? Certainly not," here Geralf lowered his voice, "Sorin, do you think?"

"I'm pretty sure that if the disowned scion of the Markov were in town we'd know it. As it stands, I'm perfectly happy to never meet him. Liliana, though, she's an interesting character. I wonder where it is both of them go, though."

Geralf seemed to blush. Lisandra was amused by his reaction, then caught herself. Was this why Mirko had such fun teasing the mortal guildmembers of the Dimir?

"Be glad you've never met them," a new voice said.

Geralf and Lisandra turned immediately to face the owner of the voice, a woman wearing a cloak with a feathered collar, jewels in her hair, and an imp holding some sort of umbrella stood behind them, her face impassive.

"I mean you no harm, Geralf Cecani. I am interested in your friend, there, though."

Lisandra took a step back. "What do you want with me?" She skirted the edges of the woman's mind, shocked at what she saw. Dozens of other worlds danced in Lisandra's head. Then she found something else that would have made her blood run cold, if it still ran in her veins. She was only seeing what the woman allowed her to see.

We're similar, the woman said directly into Lisandra's head.

How so?

For the obvious answer, we have limited telepathic ability. We've also done our fair share of traveling, wouldn't you say?

"Lisandra?" Geralf said, tripping over her name, "what does the Voidcaller want with you?"

"Oh," the woman, the Voidcaller, smiled cheerfully. "Have you really heard of me all the way out here in Moorland? And here I thought my name would never make it out of Nephalia. That said, Lisandra, dear, you really ought to come by for tea. It's at four in the morning every night. I have so much I'd like to discuss with you. Come along, Gnarls," she turned on her heel and started walking back to a carriage neither Geralf nor Lisandra had noticed before. Gnarls, the imp, scurried after her trying to keep his mistress from getting wet.

0000000

Lisandra stood on the shore, looking up at the dilapidated cathedral bathed in moonlight. She didn't know how she knew this was the place to be, but given her hostess's telepathic abilities she assumed the information had been directly implanted in her mind.

She took a deep breath and entered walked up towards the main grounds. The imp, Gnarls, dressed in purple and silver livery bearing a swirl of stars came to meet her.

"Mistress is pleased you accepted her invitation," he said. "Please follow me, I will guide you through the deterrents."

"Deterrents?"

"Mistress dislikes uninvited guests," Gnarls explained curtly.

Several minefields later, Lisandra was sitting across from an empty wingback chair. The table was an altar covered with a tablecloth. The mismatched tea set was hardly regal and the gold candelabra was missing an arm, but Lisandra's attention was on the large tapestry hanging where the collar of Avacyn should have been depicted. It bore the same crest as Gnarls' livery, but on such a scale that Lisandra could see the purposeful gap left in the center, a gap perfect for a new moon.

"I didn't intend to be so early," Lisandra looked up at the dark sky and tried to guess what time it was.

"Mistress likes to make an entrance," Gnarls supplied. "She calls it being 'fashionably late'."

"How did you come to be in her service?"

Gnarls shrugged. "Demons are summoned all the time. Mistress summoned me and offered me freedom in exchange for my services in keeping her home in order. I believe it is a fair enough trade, since I am compensated well for my work."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you're surprisingly loquacious for a lower demon."

Gnarls shrugged again. "Being away from the demonic realm gives us time to develop our own interests. I personally have a grand collection of writings from several prominent authors of the last few centuries that Mistress has helped me procure."

Lisandra glanced around the room again before returning her focus to Gnarls. He had taken a spot in a smaller chair that was closer to the level of the altar.

"You take tea with her?"

"On most occasions," Gnarls said. "Sometimes she wishes to be alone with her guests."

At that moment, the Voidcaller swept down a staircase in the corner of the former sanctuary and glided across the floor to settle into the empty chair. Lisandra had to take a minute to fully comprehend the woman sitting in front of her.

Her hostess was dressed in a wine colored velvet gown despite the relative summer heat that was slightly worn around the wrists and hemline. It was well taken care of, but obviously a favorite. She'd caught her hair up in two jeweled combs and wore the same feathered cloak she'd sported in her original meeting with Lisandra.

"Lisandra, dear, I'm so glad you came. I trust Gnarls has been treating you well?" She leaned forward, taking one of Lisandra's hands as if they had been old friends.

"Yes, he has," Lisandra answerd slowly.

"Excellent. Oh, but where are my manners? I am Ashleigh, also known as the Voidcaller, and I am something called a planeswalker. Something you are as well."

Lisandra's puzzled expression told Ashleigh all she needed to know. She released the vampire's cold hand and poured three cups of tea, dropping a heap of sugar in the cup in front of Gnarls. The imp smiled brightly before taking a sip.

"My dear, I take it you've never met any others?"

"Well, no, I haven't," Lisandra said. There was no use in lying to another mind mage.

Ashleigh sighed. "I suppose I'm glad you met me first and not Liliana or Sorin. Lili is quite kind, she helped me out a while back, but Sorin might kill you as soon as look at you, assuming he knew of your existence. I tend to keep a low profile when I'm at home here, and when I'm out Gnarls knows to not draw too much attention to this place."

Gnarls spoke up, "Mistress tells me to keep the cathedral just how she likes and I do so."

"It's been a whole month since our last run in with the heavenly hosts, Goldnight, Alabaster, and the Herons," Ashleigh said proudly. "I've never been face to face with the three sisters or Avacyn, but something tells me I wouldn't want to be."

"So you believe in Avacyn?" Lisandra said, a hint of sarcasm finding its way into her voice. "I suppose you believe in all sorts of spooky things."

"My dear, do not scoff at a being just because you haven't come face to face with it yet. I ask for you to search my mind and see just what I mean." Ashleigh held out her arms in invitation.

Lisandra skirted the edges of the planeswalker's mind once more, allowing Ashleigh to supply her with the thoughts she wished Lisandra to see. Powerful beings flitted before her mind's eye. An omnipotent fairy queen controlled day and night, speaking to her subjects in dreams. A silver golem breathed life into an entire plane and populated it with automatons. The slumbering demon Rakdos. Three beings of tremendous power, Ula, Cosi, and Emeria, raining down their destruction upon a world called Zendikar. A being with a golden face reached out its hand to her, offering her untold rewards for what seemed to be such a small cost. Not all of these memories were Ashleigh's. Some had been gleaned from others met in the Voidcaller's travels.

"Just because they're powerful doesn't make them gods," Lisandra countered, pulling herself out of Ashleigh's mind. One memory refused to leave, though. The golden face still stared into what Lisandra had to assume was her soul, reaching out with one imploring hand.

"Not exactly, but what is a god but a being worshiped by others?"

"But gods are supposed to be these immortal omnipotent beings that control your soul after you die. That doesn't exist."

"You might be correct everywhere but on Theros and Ravnica. Tell me. Does the Ghost Council not control the souls of those who cannot repay their debt? Are they not feared, placated, and in some cases deified? Do all souls not pass on Athreos' Boat across the river of death and into the cold grasp of Erebos, provided they were not claimed by Phenax first? Are you aware of just how hard it is to kill a god once they've been created? The creature itself may die, but stamping out an idea is the hard part. The idea of a deity is what is immortal, and in that aspect the god itself may live on," Ashleigh smiled smugly.

"I don't know any Athreos or Erebos or Phenax," Lisandra grumbled. "Anyway, I didn't come here to debate philosophy. What's this planeswalker nonsense about?"

"You haven't even considered the possibility that you weren't even in the city of guilds anymore? Not even in the same world?" Ashleigh seemed shocked.

"I haven't found evidence that other worlds exist," Elizabeth said.

"Well then, we have much to discuss," Ashleigh smiled, taking Elizabeth's hands. "It's a big multiverse out there, my dear, and I believe it is my sacred duty to show you around."


	59. Chapter 59

**AN: I'm really sorry to all 6 of my followers about the erratic nature of my updates. My internet provider isn't the most reliable of the bunch, so when I get a chance I upload my entire backlog.**

Planar Chaos

Chapter 18: Follow the Spider

"Another one of those things is coming, Sverre," Odom said, rolling up his sleeves. He and Sverre stood on Maelstrom Wanderer's head, clinging to the bark-like protrusions for stability as the elemental pushed forward into the gray maze of Xerex.

"How are we going to take care of it this time?" the necromancer asked. He glanced over his shoulder to where his queen sat with Ashleigh and Abby, playing with the infant abomination like an enthusiastic grandmother.

"We aren't," Ashleigh said without missing a beat.

"What?" Sverre jumped from his perch onto the wide expanse of Maelstrom's back. The lord of Helheim was accustomed to giving the female planeswalker strange looks, but this one was particularly strange. His eyebrows knit together, but one was also cocked higher than the other. His mouth was in a twisted combination of a frown and surprised 'o'.

"We're not going to destroy it," Ashleigh explained coolly. "I figured out who is sending them, and she doesn't mean any harm to us. An old friend of mine who I'd lost touch with apparently disappeared in here. She's the one who sent out that construct the first time. It took me a while, but I thought I recognized that spell I borrowed to kill it. Honestly I'm not surprised this is where Lissy wound up. She never could pass up a good puzzle."

"So what are we going to do?" Sverre crossed his arms, tossing his dark cloak over his shoulder as he did so.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ashleigh asked. "We follow this one to where Lissy's set up camp. No doubt she's figured out more about this maze than we have. I'd be surprised if once we all put our heads together we couldn't solve it."

"Odom," Sverre called over his shoulder, "what do you think?"

Odom was cowering behind one of Maelstrom's barky protrusions, peering around the edge at the construct in front of him. This wasn't one of the ones he'd seen in this distance, the crabs with their claws probably used to gather materials. This one was fashioned after a spider, complete with multiple sets of glass eyes.

"Can she send something else?" Odom asked timidly.

"Sverre, hold Abby, I'm going to see what his problem is." Ashleigh thrust the abomination at Sverre and clambered ungracefully up Maelstrom Wanderer's neck.

The necromancer awkwardly held the creature. Oona flitted up onto his shoulder and gave him a few tips for managing the seven tentacles and the strong dragonlike tail.

"Don't forget to watch the beak, dear," Oona said, slightly too late as Abby had already taken a bite out of Sverre's winged helmet and was chewing the metal experimentally.

"Odom, what's the problem?" Ashleigh crouched down next to him, not looking at the construct patiently waiting for them to follow it.

"Can she send something else?" Odom repeated.

Ashleigh turned her head to examine the construct and she was suddenly struck with the memory that Odom was terrified of spiders. Abby had even been designed with seven tentacles instead of eight so as not to trigger this fear. Odom himself would only ever manifest three or five extra arms, never four.

"I have Lissy's assurance that it won't hurt us," Ashleigh said.

Odom glanced at her then back at the spider, then back at Ashleigh. "You've been in contact with her? How?"

"She and I have limited telepathy, hers from years of training with the Dimir, mine from my time on Lorwyn. Fairies collect their information by stealing from people's dreams there, I just took it further to borrow from people while they're awake. By the way, the spell you've got in mind right now seems very interesting. I'd like to borrow it sometime," Ashleigh smiled her usual half-crazed smile.

Odom sighed. "Fine, we'll follow the spider, but I'm not moving from this spot until we reach your friend."

"Are you sure you wouldn't want to go sit with Abby? I can direct Maelstrom in the meantime."

Odom gave Ashleigh a skeptical look. "Ash, do you really think Brospehus is going to listen to you? You don't have the kind of connection we do. I might as well try to summon and order around your butler." Odom stood, not as tall as usual given his residual fear, and gave the command. "Yo, Broster Strudel, forward."

The elemental gave a rumbling response and began to slowly progress forward.

00000

"Did you hear that?" Brock asked from his position on the hydra's middle neck.

"Hear what?" Sa'Raah asked from two necks to the left. "That rumbling? It's probably just another construct."

"No," Marthel said, eyes narrowing. "I know that rumbling. Only one creature in the multiverse makes a sound like that."

"What?" Sa'Raah and Brock asked in unison.

"That would be one Maelstrom Wanderer, the favored pet of a man who'd crown himself the Maelstrom Mage if I weren't around." Marthel smiled, but there was an edge to his grin.

Nadia, who was incredibly uncomfortable riding the hydra rather than walking or flying, had a quizzical expression on her face. "What are you getting at, Jace Marthel?"

"What I'm getting at, Nadia, is that if anyone is insane enough to make real progress in this maze, it's that man and his companions. We should see if we can find them. Gravity and space might be distorted in here, but time appears unaffected, as does sound. Brock," Marthel turned to his friend, "can you direct the hydra towards that rumbling noise?"

"No way am I teaming up with that gang of psychopaths." Brock crossed his arms.

Sa'Raah sighed. "Here we go again."

"I'm serious," Brock said. "I refuse to work with them or help them get any closer to the center of the maze."

"Even if it means finding Kyari?" Marthel said, aware that he'd hit a sore spot. "Brock it's been what I can only guess to be three days since that construct took her. How is she supposed to eat or drink? All our food is tied around that neck over there. You need to grow up and realize that darkness doesn't always mean evil. Yeah, they're a messed up bunch. One regularly flouts the laws of life and death, one hangs out alone in a run down cathedral with demons as her only company, and the other is a mad scientist in every sense of the word, but you know what? They at least work well together and can think outside of the box."

Brock's face was turning redder and redder as Marthel kept talking.

It was Sa'Raah who provided the piece of information to bring Brock back from having an aneurysm. "If we follow them, and even help them, we might be able to get to the research first and prevent it from falling into the wrong hands."

The angel of Bant smiled approvingly. "I do believe that is the most sensible thing any person has said all day, Sa'Raah." Nadia ruffled her wings in a vain attempt to get more comfortable for the long ride ahead.

"Sa'Raah is right," Brock said. "While normally I don't approve of deception, sometimes it's for the greater good. Kyari is counting on us, and although I don't like it I'll go ahead and admit that Marthel is right. If anyone is crazy enough to make it to the center of Xerex, it's Odom and his crew."

Brock turned the hydra in the direction of the rumbling, making sure that its foot made contact with the pathway he wanted before the rest of the beast followed. It was a tricky business navigating Xerex, but as long as at least one body part was anchored to a pathway, it seemed like the rest of the body could make it there as well.

Sa'Raah's head shot up as she caught a whiff of something that reminded her of Jund, but that couldn't be right. It must have been in her head.

0000000

"Remind me to take a bath at our next convenience, Vilhelm," Rinok scowled. "I understand that Rhyne is not accustomed to the finer points of stealth, but one would think he'd knowq wild animals have a keener sense of smell than the average human."

"There aren't any wild animals here, Rinok," Vilhelm reminded the warmonger, not for the first time. "I too am not a fan of how his smell seems to have permeated all our supplies, however, I doubt that the artifact creatures that inhabit this plane are capable of smell."

"It's not creatures I'm worried about," Rinok said, hefting the sack containing his tent. "I'm worried about our competition, or as Rhyne liked to call them, our prey."

"I'm almost positive he never said that."

"You didn't go to the Rakdos revel with him the night before we decided to come here. I admire his ability to psych himself up, if he could be trusted with leadership at all I'd try to make him a commander of one of my armies. Alas he'd just as likely kill a whole battalion for the fun of it rather than furthering the renewal of worlds through the reshaping powers of conflict." Rinok sighed. "What a waste of potential."

"It seems we'll have to kill him before he kills us, then," Vilhelm said experimentally.

Rinok shrugged. "If it comes down to it. Hopefully that's after I've sent the dragon girl back to Sarkhan in pieces."

"Your obsession with this dragon girl," Vilhelm said, "if I may ask why it's so important to you that she be sent back to Sarkhan when you could just engage Sarkhan directly?"

"As soft as Sarkhan is now, I'd win far too easily. I don't seek to kill the man. I want him to be reborn into the leader he once was. The man who sacrificed hundreds in his singleminded quest for glory must grace the battlefields of Tarkir once more. The plane will die otherwise. Already it's stagnated, the air is not as fresh and the waters have turned brackish. The dragonlords have enjoyed their power for far too long," Rinok explained, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice.

"And the death of Sa'Raah is what will achieve this dream of yours? Even if Sarkhan himself were to blame for the current state of Tarkir?"

"What are you saying?" Rinok asked, confused.

"I'm saying that bigger things are going on in this multiverse than you think, if onbly you look in the right places for them. The dragons of Tarkir are born in the storms kept going by the spirit dragon, yes?"

"So I've heard it said by a couple of Ojutai scholars cowering for their lives," Rinok mumbled. "But I try to not put too much stock in fairy stories."

"If I told you the spirit dragon was real and caught up in a very different battle at the moment would you believe me? You've seen the land of Zendikar, yes? With its floating hedrons so similar to the decoration on Sarkhan's staff?" Vilhelm was practically purring as he divulged just the right information.

"I have..." Rinok said, unsure where Vilhelm was going.

Now was the time for half-truths and lies. "Well isn't it obvious? Sarkhan and this spirit dragon are working together to keep the dragons in power. He's even blessed Sarkhan with the power to become a dragon in order to maintain this malicious peace. Destroy the spirit dragon, you weaken the dragonlords enough to survive a war with them and eventually slay them all."

"How does one slay a spirit? I have fought armies of the dead, but the ethereal are as yet beyond my reach." Rinok's eyes had taken on a wild characteristic.

"There are ways. I could teach you, and together we could strike down our foes across the worlds until none stand in our way. You could lead vast armies to crush rebellion wherever it arises, Rinok. Think of that." Vilhelm willed the warrior to see things his way, but carefully. He didn't dare rip out this man's mind and subsume him. It couldn't be done with another planeswalker. Careful convincing and then sudden abrupt betrayal would be Vilhelm's tools, along with Rinok himself. If he wanted to be a shadowy ruler, in true control of the multiverse, he needed an army.


	60. Chapter 60

Planar Chaos

One Shots: The Beach Episode

Sverre tossed his dark cloak over his shoulder to reveal his golden breastplate and straightened his matching winged helmet. He waited for Odom at the appointed place, on the border between the lush jungles inhabited by the Sultai and the barren steppe that served as home to the Mardu raiders.

A strange popping noise preceded Odom's appearance, something Sverre had yet to figure out how to do himself. It was rather embarrassing that in all his years of planeswalking he hadn't teased out all the secrets.

"Subtle," Sverre commented.

"I don't know the meaning of the word," Odom chuckled.

"Are you ready to begin?" Sverre glanced at the steppe in the distance. He hadn't seen any signs of a raiding party and was unsure of how long it would take one to notice the presence of an obviously rich Sultai lord. He'd dusted off his finest breastplate from his armory on Helheim for the occasion.

"Do dragons have three stomachs?"

"I'm..." Sverre placed a hand on his chin in thought. "I'm honestly not sure."

"Trick question. It depends on the plane and species."

"Of course it does," Sverre sighed.

They set off together into the Steppe, leaving the lush jungles and their humid, oppressive air behind. A light breeze tugged at the edges of Sverre's cloak and Odom's ever present guild robes. Today they were an unusual mishmash of the Simic and Izzet garments, not altogether unsuited to the mad scientist.

"So, weren't the both of us supposed to be dressed up for this?" Sverre asked.

"Yeah, about that, I don't really have anything for this," Odom said sheepishly. "Neither of my guilds pay anything exorbitant, and I do have three apartments to pay for."

"Three?"

"One is my living space, the one directly below it I've outfitted into a lab, and the one next to that is for the Lord of the Brocean," Odom explained.

"One would think a being as massive as the Maelstrom Wanderer wouldn't fit inside a Ravnican apartment."

"Oh, he doesn't. And he keeps trying to go outside, but we can't have that. So I have to keep an agoraphobia enchantment on him pretty much at all times. Can you imagine what would happen if he started wandering around Ravnica? Actually, now that you mention it, I'm curious to find out."

Sverre was immediately concerned by the twinkle in Odom's eye. "Hey," he snapped his fingers in Odom's face. "Focus. We're on a mission, remember?"

"I know." Odom hung his head in mock shame. "Hopefully we get company soon."

00000

"Run faster, they're gaining on us!" Sverre's feet pounded against the hard earth. Odom's own slightly squishy footsteps could be heard behind him.

"I still don't believe that pony has the requisite strength to carry seven goblins at once. We should be fine. But we at least have our answer."

"What?"

"How long it took for someone to notice you, flashy."

Sverre rolled his eyes. "And how long is that?"

"Seven," Odom said. He didn't even sound out of breath.

"Seven what?"

"Just seven."

"That isn't a unit of measurement," Sverre shouted. "A scholar like you should know better."

"Don't confuse me with an actual scholar, mate," Odom said. "My experiments are entirely unstructured."

"I suppose I'm not surprised," Svere sighed, still trying to catch his breath and run at the same time. His eyes lighted on the foothills of a small mountain. "That way. We might be able to lose them."

"Way ahead of you," Odom said from in front of Sverre. He had managed to summon a trygon predator, a strange winged lizard created by the Simic guild, and was riding on its back about ten feet off the ground, precariously close for a creature of that size. "Grab my hand."

Sverre was forced to jump, a task that ran the risk of injuring his legs and his pride if he missed. Just when he thought the distance was too far, Odom's arm seemed to shoot out another few inches to close the gap. Sverre was now hanging in the air as the beast climbed higher and higher, back towards the Sultai jungle.

"Odom, pull me up," Sverre demanded after several minutes.

"I can't. My arm's too unstable after stretching it like that. You'll have to be patient," the other planeswalker's eyebrow had ignited from the effort it took to keep his friend from crashing to the ground.

"I can't hold on much longer, Odom," Sverre bellowed.

"Well there's nothing I can do, Sverre, you'll just have to have fun swimming."

"Swimming? I swear if you even think about dropping me..." The wind whistling past Sverre's ears and Odom's now detached arm made it impossible to finish the threat. "I am not okay with this!" Sverre cried as he plummeted through the canopy and into a deep pond.

"Damn crazy man," Sverre said, slogging his way to the shore. He removed his armor and was soon sitting on a nearby rock wearing nothing but his underclothes.

"Ooh!" Odom swept in on the back of his trygon, hopping to the ground a few feet away from Sverre. "A swimming hole!"

"You seem excited for a man with one arm," Sverre said. Then he realized both Odom's arms were in their proper place. "How did you?"

"The Maelstrom works in mysterious ways, my friend. I got cool regenerative abilities as well as the shapeshifting." Odom smiled, removing his guild robes and diving into the water. There was a soft sizzling noise as his eyebrow fire was finally doused.

"How can you be swimming at a time like this? You dropped me off of a flying beast from at least thirty feet in the air," Svere said crossly.

"But you didn't get hurt, did you?" Odom's head popped back above the water.

"What? How did you even hear me?"

Odom pointed to his guild robes, which were neatly folded with an ear sitting on top of them.

"That's just disgusting, man." Sverre cringed.

"Come on in, Sverre, the water's great. It'll take some time for your clothes to dry anyway."

"I suppose it couldn't hurt," Sverre said, wading in to about knee deep.

"No, you have to get in the water, like this," Odom said, swimming up and grabbing Sverre's ankle, yanking the leg out from underneath his friend as he did so. Sverre hit the bottom of the pond with an unceremonious splashing noise, sputtering as he tried to get up.

"I think we've had enough fun for the day, Odom," Sverre said.

"Aww, come on. You're no fun sometimes."

Sverre had turned to face the shore, hiding his face from Odom. Even though his voice sounded cross, he was actually smiling with wicked glee. A set of vines soon entrapped Odom and just as the mad scientist was succeeding in his struggle to escape, Jormungandr erupted from the bottom of the pond and roared in his face, causing him to scream in terror.

Sverre, meanwhile, was having a most hearty chuckle, bordering on a guffaw. When Odom heard his friend's laughter, he began laughing as well.

"I don't know why I hang out with you sometimes, Odom," Sverre said, "but I'm very glad that I do."


	61. Chapter 61

Planar Chaos

Chapter 19: Unlikely Alliances

Lisandra meandered through her towers of books with Kyari following close behind.

"This stack," the vampire said, indicating a pile of books as tall as herself, "is my collection of texts related to the old walkers, the likes of Urza, Sorin, Nahiri, Bolas, and Jaya Ballard. They're my most prized collection in this library."

Kyari reached up and took a tome from the very top, a thick book bound in blue leather with gold-edged pages. "May I?"

"Of course," Lisandra said. "Provided I can pick your brain about your knowledge of beasts. From what I've seen it's almost unparalleled. Your way with them could rival Garruk himself."

Kyari's face grew dark. "How long have you been trapped here, Lisandra?"

"Oh, I don't know. Months? Years?"

"So you'd know about the curse, then? That Liliana cursed Garruk with the Chain Veil and now he hunts planeswalkers? Nature doesn't respond to his call, a fact I'm grateful for as it allowed me to escape with my life." Kyari shuddered. It was an encounter she had yet to tell Brock and Marthel about. They tended to worry about her, Brock more so than Marthel since he had never been on the receiving end of her ferocity.

"That I didn't know about." Lisandra produced a quill, parchment, and some ink and began to write, using the top of a shorter stack of books as a table. "Can you describe the exact effects of this curse? If you can't find the words, just let me in and I'll write it down for you."

"I'm honestly not sure how I'd describe it. He was consumed by a dark power that tainted him, turning hunter into murderer. I never approved of the hunting, per se, but at least he was fair about it before the transformation. He seemed…" Kyari trailed off.

"Genuinely gleeful about killing? And that's something you don't understand." Lisandra continued scribbling. "Don't worry. I don't enjoy having to kill people either, but sometimes I have to or I'll starve to death. I do my best to preserve all their knowledge, though. Some of these books I wrote myself about the people I've had to eat over the span of time I've been in this place. It's only been maybe five or six, so my body count isn't as high as cannibal boy over there." Lisandra gestured in the general direction of Rhyne's cage. "You've got to be cruel working in the information business, you know?"

"How much of what you're writing am I telling you and how much are you picking out for yourself?" Kyari put her hands on her hips, cocking one out slightly.

"It's about ten percent you, ninety percent me. It's hard for people to remember traumatic experiences sometimes, so I occasionally save them the trouble since the memory itself can get corrupted. Knowledge gets mixed in with emotion. It's messy and harder to glean the truth that way. But go on if you want."

Kyari sighed and returned to the book in her hand. The dark blue leather felt old, heavy with the weight of whatever it contained. She opened the cover and her eyebrows shot into her hairline. The title was written in meticulous script: _A Complete History of the Weatherlight._ Kyari reached up and grabbed another book from the tower. Its title read _The Sins of Yawgmoth._ Yet another book was titled _The Caves of the Damned and the Phyrexian Wars._

"How did you get these?" Kyari demanded. "Nobody should have access to books like this. They should be lost."

Lisandra shrugged. "I found them scattered through this maze. It seems someone left them here so that the truth could be preserved, which I think is a good idea. Now, how exactly did you tame a Kalonian Hydra?"

"It planeswalked with me on accident when it was a baby. Once we got back to Shandalar it wouldn't leave my side. Not that remarkable of a story. How many more of these books are out there?"

"The constructs bring me new ones every week or so. They're very easy to control. Just tell them to go do a thing and they do it pretty easily. I think rather than guardians they're tools. Our minds can't navigate something as bizarre as this maze, but the constructs are more than capable." Lisandra kept furiously scribbling, her ream of parchment hanging over the makeshift table covered in small, neat shorthand. Kyari knew that parchment contained more than her exploits with the hydra, but she was too distracted by the texts. Some had authors. _The Secrets of Ghostfire: An Ascetic Study of Pyromancy_ by Jaya Ballard and Ugin, _Death Magic and the Production of Mana_ by Ashnod the Uncaring, and more.

"I wonder if these were all placed here to keep people from finding them," Kyari mused.

"Preposterous," Lisandra said. "Knowledge was meant to be preserved, not hidden away from the world. Where other than Xerex is free from war, Phyrexian incursion, and idiotic governments who would seek to control what people know?"

"But how can everyone know it if it's hidden here," Kyari asserted. "Only planeswalkers can get here, and even then we hide ourselves from normal people. Think about it. When you were normal did you ever entertain the idea of other worlds?"

Lisandra put her quill down and recalled her first midnight tea with Ashleigh. "No," she said honestly. "I didn't. But now that I know, these stories need to be preserved. This knowledge needs to live on, Kyari. Sure, planeswalkers aren't immortal beings anymore, but vampires are. And I can amass and preserve all the knowledge in the multiverse. I won't be stopped, no matter what. So, once again, are you going to be with me or are you going to be lunch?"

Kyari held up her hands. "I'm not going to be lunch, I'm just trying to help you understand another perspective."

"Your friend's perspective, I'd imagine? Kyari, I can read your mind and I live off of eating people's memories, I know that you personally don't care what I do with all this knowledge, you just want to keep the balance of the multiverse's ecosystem. That's a noble goal, I appreciate that. I can't tell you how many people come in here looking for power or a weapon to destroy some enemy. You're refreshing, honestly, and I like you. I don't want to make you lunch, but your friend might get his mind munched if he dares touch any of my books." Lisandra's eyes narrowed and she bared her fangs.

000000

"Is that a hydra?" Odom peered into the distance, still sitting behind one of Maelstrom Wanderer's barky protrusions. The spider construct creaked to a halt as it too perceived the thrashing necks of a Kalonian Hydra several hundred yards ahead.

The hydra in question was flailing while three planeswalkers and an angel clung desperately to its back. First to be flung off was Sa'Raah, who tumbled through the air and landed with a thud on the ceiling. Marthel followed soon after, Nadia in hot pursuit of her champion. She caught him under the arms in the air and began flying towards the other group of planeswalkers. The only one still clinging to the hydra was Brock as he tried to wrestle it back into submission.

"Hey! Guys!" Marthel waved. Odom wasn't sure if he'd ever seen Marthel's clothing under his white cloak before. His shirt was trimmed with Knuckleblade hide and his pants reminded Odom of Kor leather. He was also armed to the teeth with two sizeable blades and a small hooked blade on his hip.

"Savage," Odom murmured in awe. He had a newfound respect for his lifelong frenemy.

"Nadia, take me closer, okay?" Marthel asked. The angel gave a loud sigh but acquiesced. They landed on Maelstrom Wanderer's back, much to the confusion of the elemental.

"Marthel," Sverre said, "we're surprised to see you."

"Well I'm happy to see all of you. As you can see, we've run into a problem with the hydra." He gestured back to where Brock was attempting to break the beast like he would a wild horse.

"What happened?" Odom slid down Maelstrom's neck and strode up to Marthel and Nadia.

"Wildness does not take kindly to forced subservience," Nadia said. "We learned that the hard way on Bant once the beasts started appearing in greater numbers."

"What she said." Marthel smiled sheepishly, tucking a stray loc of hair behind his ear. "Brock had the bright idea of dominating the hydra after Kyari was taken by a construct. It seems the spell wore off."

"As it is," Sverre said, "we're heading in the direction those constructs went. That one up there is leading us to its base of operations."

Marthel glanced over his shoulder. "I saw that. How'd you guys manage it?"

"I ran into a friend of mine here," Ashleigh said, strolling up with Abby in the sling and Oona on her shoulder enjoying a blackberry. "She's something of a polymath, an archivist, and a cryptographer. Lisandra can't resist a good puzzle, either. She has to get to the bottom of everything. This spider is going to lead us to her. She can probably help us find Kyari if she hasn't found her already."

"Oh my goodness how are you, you precious little hellbeast?" Marthel's hands shot to his face and his voice climbed several octaves upon seeing Abby.

Abby responded with happy gurgling noises.

"Has it gotten bigger?" Marthel leaned back, one hand moving to his chin to assess the infant abomination.

"I don't have my measurement tools," Odom said, "but from what I can tell it's put on a few pounds. The wings have started growing as well, at a much more rapid pace than anticipated. Overall I think our assessment that Abby will be able to fly is going to be correct."

"May I?" Marthel asked, reaching for Abby.

"You, I trust. The angel, not so much," Ashleigh said, handing the squirming, gurgling Abby to Marthel.

"You're just a cute little porker, aren't you?" Marthel struggled to keep Abby in one position. The abomination managed to crawl on top of Marthel's head, wrapping its tentacles around his neck and over his eyes in the process. Abby spread its wings, now about as large as Marthel's forearms, and gave a screech.

Abby liked this man, and Abby could tell that this man like Abby. Abby buried Abby's beak in the man's hair to remember his smell. Mommy and Daddy were happy that Abby liked this man, Abby could tell. Abby crawled onto the man's back and saw an angel looking angry. Immediately Abby crawled back around to the man's front, hiding Abby's face. The man wrapped his arms around Abby to help Abby stay up.

"It's very enthusiastic about people, isn't it?" Marthel asked, chuckling.

"Only people it knows not to be a threat," Odom explained. "For some reason it has an instinctive fear of angels."

"Um, Marthel," Sverre said, standing on his toes to see the hydra's continued thrashing, "shouldn't we be helping?"

"Sorry. I got distracted." Marthel handed Abby back to Ashleigh. "Nadia, can you find a way to get Sa'Raah down?"

Sa'Raah remained stuck to the ceiling, looking down on the scene unfolding before her. Nadia flew up to get her. The angel and elf struggled to make it back to Maelstrom Wanderer.

"No, You need to go down and to the left," Ashleigh called. They either didn't hear her or didn't listen. "Marthel, tell them."

"I'd listen to Ashleigh if I were you," Marthel shouted.

Nadia muttered something about fraternizing with demons and uncleanliness. Sa'Raah had to agree with her on that point. Dromoka stressed the natural order and cycle of life. Demons and the undead certainly went against that, but Ashleigh herself was a nice enough person. Dromoka had seen the good in her adopted daughter, so Sa'Raah tried to do the same with the people she encountered.

"What are we going to do about that?" Sa'Raah asked as she landed on the elemental's back. Brock was still attempting to subdue the bucking hydra. The vein on his forehead was clearly visible, even from their distance.

"Wait until he learns his lesson?" Sverre asked. Odom made noises of agreement.

"Unfortunately," Marthel said, "that might be longer than we think. Brock's stubborn. He rarely backs down from his convictions. He thinks subduing a hydra is the best way to go, so he'll fight that thing until it gives in or he dies. You guys should have seen the lecture he gave another planeswalker the last time we were visiting Fiora. Somehow he found out she'd been hired to kill King Brago, as if it were possible to kill a ghost." Marthel laughed.

"He needs to be more flexible," Sa'Raah relented, "but at least his heart is in the right place."

"Assuming he even has one," Ashleigh scoffed while clutching Abby tighter. "What kind of man would separate a mother from her child?"

"Ash, nobody is taking Abby away from you," Odom put his arm around Ashleigh's shoulders.

"Of course not. I'll rot him from the inside out before he gets the chance."

"Kinky," Sverre purred.

"You're married," Oona playfully slapped Sverre with her tiny hand.

"My dear, you have wounded me!" Sverre clutched the opposite side of his face dramatically.

"Guys," Sa'Raah snapped, "what are we going to do about Brock?"

"He has one option for us to help him," Odom said. "He can't try to kill either my girlfriend or our baby."

000000

"What!?" Brock shouted, still trying to wrestle the hydra.

"Those are their terms, Brock," Marthel said. Nadia readjusted her hands under his arms to keep Marthel from falling. "You're going to have to get along. Ashleigh has already agreed. At the first sign of a fight, whoever started it gets kicked off the Maelstrom Wanderer."

"So," Brock grunted, tightening his legs around the hydra's neck, "what are we supposed to do with this guy?"

"We can leave the hydra here and some of Lisandra's constructs will come retrieve it for us. I'd imagine Kyari's already with her, but Ashleigh didn't seem to know anything about it."

"She's lying," Brock asserted. "She and this Lisandra are probably in this together to capture all of us and take the research for themselves."

Marthel sighed. "I'm pretty sure that's impossible since I know Ashleigh hasn't spoken to Lisandra in years."

"How?"

Marthel tapped his temple. "Jack of all trades, master of none, but better than a master of one."

"I don't think I can trust her. You, me, and Sa'Raah will take turns keeping watch at night." Brock began to loosen his grip on the hydra.

"Whatever makes you happy, dude, but this is our only way to find Kyari," Marthel reminded him.

"Don't you think I know that?" Brock snapped. "I am keenly aware that the only way to save her is to team up with a group of psychopaths who think abusing potentially worlds-changing knowledge is just another Tuesday."

"You were fine with this just a few days ago."

"Yeah but then I started thinking with my brain and not my heart."

"Is that what Kyari would want?"

Brock hung his head as the hydra started to calm down. "I'm honestly not sure."

"Brock, do yourself a favor, don't get lost down that path again. Remember what you told Tamiyo? Her weakness was her coldness, her unwillingness to act. Well now you have to act, and although that act isn't something you want to do, it's the only way to do what you want." Marthel reached out his hand. "Come on, Kyari is waiting."


	62. Chapter 62

Planar Chaos

Chapter 20: Black and White and Red All Over

"Okay, you two," Odom said, standing between Ashleigh and Brock, "I want you at opposite ends of the elemental at all times. We're on a mission, and you're either going to have to look past your differences or not interact at all."

"That's right," Marthel said. He was standing across from Odom with one hand on Brock's shoulder as much for restraint as for comfort. "We've got to get to the center of this maze to get out. Kyari's missing and Ashleigh's friend is likely the only person who can help us find her. The sooner we do both of those things, the sooner we can escape and get on with our lives."

"Since," Odom continued, "given the looks on your faces you aren't particularly intent on our former option, we'll have to go with the latter. No interaction. Now, both of you turn around and walk away."

The rival walkers did so, Ashleigh joining Sverre, Oona, and Sa'Raah as they played with Abby while Brock stalked over to where Nadia sat, begrudgingly eating a slice of bread.

"I didn't know angels ate," Brock said.

"They don't," Nadia said curtly. "I, however, must. I have been touched by the space between spaces. It has changed me. There is nothing more to it." She took a bite and grimaced.

"Well," Marthel said to Odom, "I think that went well."

"Mhm," Odom replied. "Let's just hope we can keep it this way. I don't want a fight to start."

"You'll just have to keep your little cutie pie away from him," Marthel cautioned.

Odom's face grew dark. "It's going to be hard. Abby's getting very curious." He glanced over to where the abomination was sitting in Sa'Raah's lap, propped up with its rear tentacles and feeling her horns. One of Abby's tentacles touched its own small horns that were beginning to form. "It's able to recognize features it shares with others and seems to be building a conceptual model of the world from a psychological standpoint. I'm just happy this endless gray maze provides enough sensory stimuli for proper cognitive development."

"We're a pretty ragtag bunch, Odom," Marthel said. "I'm sure that between all of us Abby's getting enough sensory input."

Ashleigh smiled slyly at Sa'Raah. "So what's this I'm getting about Sarkhan Vol?"

Sa'Raah blushed bright red in response.

"Go on, or do you not kiss and tell?" Ashleigh pried.

"I prefer not to," Sa'Raah said. "Mother did teach me modesty, which you wouldn't think a dragon would care about all that much."

"Seems like it was more than kissing, then," Sverre said.

"It must hurt to be parted from him for so long," Oona said. "I can't recall the last time Sverre and I weren't together, it's been so long."

"And it will be even longer, my love, once we can be together forever, never parted by the cold kiss of death," Sverre said dramatically.

"I do miss him," Sa'Raah revealed. "He's the only other person in the multiverse that understands just how I feel about dragons."

"Go on," Ashleigh prompted.

"And when we're together, I can just tell how fascinated he is with me, how attracted to me he is. The first time we met, we almost…" Sa'Raah trailed off.

"So it was an instant connection," Sverre said approvingly. "I felt the same way about Oona when I first beheld her heavenly beauty. I didn't care that she was a dainty fairy queen and I a profane necromancer unworthy of her sight. I strove to be the kind of man worthy of such divine affections. I did whatever it took, up to and including brutal, cold-blooded murder."

Maelstrom Wanderer lurched forward as the spider construct began to move again. The hydra no longer obstructed its path back to its director, but instead had wandered off into the maze.

"I hope we can get that damn beast back," Marthel said, sitting down next to Brock and Nadia.

Odom followed him, joining the quieter of the two groups. "I don't know that I've ever actually seen Kyari without the hydra. She'd bring it with her on research projects and just let it roam around while we took our samples."

"The reason she never lets it out of her sight," Brock explained, "is that it planeswalked with her that first time. They wound up somewhere dark, surrounded by metal and death. She doesn't know what plane it is, but I have my guesses."

"She's too young for it to have been Phyrexia, Brock," Marthel said.

"You don't necessarily know that. Elves live a long time."

Odom yawned. "He's got a point, they do have long lifespans wherever they exist. The only thing that lives longer are dragons, vampires, and planeswalkers. I'm not counting angels, Nadia, no offense."

"None taken. From our birth on Bant we were functionally immortal."

"Technically speaking," Marthel chimed in, "angels aren't born. They're made."

Odom and Brock each arched an eyebrow.

"The prevailing theory, from what I've been able to find regarding the subject, which involved several heated interrogations of one Soratami planeswalker, is that angels were created by Serra, an ancient planeswalker." Marthel smiled smugly.

"How did you get Tamiyo to tell you anything?" Brock asked.

"Basically, she started lecturing me with stories."

Brock smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, she does that a lot."

"Where does she get those stories, by the way?" Odom asked.

"I'm going to be honest. I don't really know." Brock said.

000000

Several days had passed. The spider construct was forced to move slowly so its tagalongs could navigate the maze. On the back of the elemental, things were getting heated.

"That damn thing tried to attack me," Brock shouted as Ashleigh took a defensive stance in front of Abby.

"It's just curious, Brock," Odom said, trying to diffuse the situation. "It's harmless at this stage of its life."

Sverre mumbled something about his helmet begging to differ. Sa'Raah took an opportunity to scoop Abby off of the ground and carry it away from the brewing fight.

Marthel stood in between Brock and Ashleigh, his curved knife at the ready in case one of them made a move.

"It won't be harmless forever, don't you see that? I can prevent so much death, so much loss, if I destroy it right here and right now." Brock's wide eyes had taken on a manic quality.

"And I promise you that if you were to kill Abby that Ash would go off the deep end," Odom said. He glanced over to where Ashleigh stood. She hadn't moved, or rather she hadn't seemed to. He felt her delicate mental fingers picking through his mind for a spell, any spell that could work inside the maze. No doubt she had already combed through everyone else's minds except her rival's.

"She's already off the deep end, Odom, she lives in the deep end," Brock laughed harshly.

"I think we ought to let them settle this, don't you?" Marthel said coolly. He took a step back.

"No fighting on the elemental," Odom said emphatically, crossing his arms.

Ashleigh took a running leap from Maelstrom Wanderer's back and landed on the ground below. In this one spot gravity seemed to function properly. Brock followed, glaring over his shoulder at Marthel standing there with his dinky little knife and Sa'Raah cradling the unholy mass of flesh.

"Traitors," he muttered.

Ashleigh was waiting for him when he landed. She rushed him down, flinging blasts of electricity. Brock calmly stepped to the side, sending her tumbling over the edge of the walkway. What he didn't expect was to see her come back up the other side, hands sparking. Brock retaliated with fists of flame, using a special technique he'd learned from his time studying on Mount Keralia. He had to regulate his breathing, his heartbeat, even his blinking to draw upon the mana of the plane and channel it into the invisible flames. Ghostfire would serve him well against the crazed electromancer.

Ashleigh feinted right and jabbed to the left. Brock struck at her shoulder, his superior physical strength sending Ashleigh staggering back. The Ghostfire had burned away her coat, revealing more of her sun-starved skin. Her eyes flicked up to where Sa'Raah held Abby. The abomination's eyes were riveted to its mother, following her every move. Ashleigh let out a feral growl and attacked with renewed viciousness. She gave up all pretense of cunning, operating purely on instinct. Brock smiled to himself. He could use this erratic fighting style to his advantage. He dodged her blows, allowing Ashleigh to tire herself out.

"Shouldn't we stop them?" Sa'Raah asked. "We're stronger together."

"They want to tear each other apart," Marthel said. "I say we should let them get it out of their system."

"Besides," Odom said, "If they tear each other apart I can get those deep tissue samples I've been needing from both of them."

"Ever the scientist, Odom," Sverre said, smirking. "That said, Ashleigh doesn't look like she's doing so well. I don't think I've ever actually seen her with her hair down. It's longer than I expected."

"Yeah, it's really soft too," Odom said. "I hope she doesn't lose those combs, or Brock doesn't break them. They're her favorites."

Ashleigh was breathing heavily and bleeding from the corner of her mouth. She spit on the ground, sending a tooth skittering into a separate gravity field, where it began falling up. "Didn't anyone tell you never to hit a lady?"

"With all due respect," Brock said, barely breaking a sweat, "you aren't a lady."

He reared back his fist and punched. Ashleigh was too late to dodge it. She felt her ribs crack and stars erupted behind her eyes when her head crashed into the hard ground. Her foot twitched and her breathing came in wet gasps. Her eyes, though out of focus, were still filled with malice and the will to fight.

Brock stood over her, ready for the kill, when Odom appeared before him. His own fist connected with Brock's chest, sending the monk flying and causing similar injuries to those he'd inflicted upon the Voidcaller. Brock found himself staring at the ceiling watching his blood start to drip upwards.

"Marthel, hold him still," Odom ordered. Marthel did so, giving Brock an apologetic look.

Odom knelt down by Ashleigh, gently stroking her face and hair while a series of extra arms harvested the samples he needed before healing her wounds. He did the same with Brock, minus the stroking.

"Sorry, dude, but that'd just be weird," Odom said, picking bits of Brock's innards out and placing them in separate vials before regenerating his broken body.

Ashleigh was back on her feet and ready to begin fighting again when she felt something pick her up by the back of her collar. A barky substance with hot breath that smelled like brimstone closed around the fabric gently and Maelstrom Wanderer lifted Ashleigh off the ground like a mother cat would do to a disobedient kitten. Odom himself helped Brock up and put a friendly yet firm arm around his shoulders. The grip was tight to the point of almost being painful.

"We're going to take a little walk, you're going to come with me and Ashleigh's going to go with Broski," Odom explained.

"Odom get your overgrown tree dog to put me down," Ashleigh demanded. Maelstrom made an angry rumbling noise in response.

"He's not a tree dog, Ash, he's an elemental." Odom rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Brock. "Women, am I right?"

They began walking, Odom directing their path.

"I don't think you see what I'm trying to do, here, Brock," Odom said after several minutes of uncomfortable silence. "So I'm going to explain it again. You're aware that Ashleigh hears voices, right? She's constantly assaulted by the voices of the living. She's been doing fine here on Xerex because there are maybe thirteen sapient beings on the whole plane. But on other planes she doesn't do so well. Take Ravnica, for instance, it's a giant, densely populated city. Her mind is bombarded with a dull roar in the background of all her thoughts. It's enough to drive someone insane, and at times it has. But you know what, if I can keep her distracted for long enough with something new she does just fine. If I give her something to care about, she can resist that urge to destroy everything for a moment's peace and quiet. Then Abby came along, and she can now exist without hearing those voices if she has Abby. So, while you see the presence of Abby as something terrible and dangerous, I see the opposite. Abby's death might be just what Ash needs to fly off the handle and go on a rampage. So I'm going to give you another chance, because I like you. You're a swell guy, and I do think we need someone like you on this team, but this will have to be your last chance. If you can't keep that temper of yours in check we're going to have another problem, and next time I won't duplicate your attacks at half power."

"I don't see you asking her to keep her temper in check," Brock spat.

"So I have a soft spot for her. Go on and have the Azorius and Orzhov sue me. I'd like to see how long it takes you to fill out the paperwork. You'd have to give yourself to the Maw of the Obzedat just to exist long enough to finish it." Odom shrugged. "Good luck."

"You're not being fair," Brock said.

"No, I'm not. And I won't be 'fair' just because you say to." Odom stuck his tongue out.

Brock groaned. "Okay. I'll do my best not to get angry, alright?"

"I'm satisfied. Shall we rejoin the others?"

"Only on the condition that you talk to her."

"I don't have to, Marthel is taking care of that for me. She gets these big puppy dog eyes and I just can't be stern with those, but they don't have an effect on Marthel at all."

"At least someone sees through her," Brock said, rolling his eyes.


	63. Chapter 63

Planar Chaos

One Shots: The Touch of Destiny

Lisandra slunk through the shadows of the Setessan woods. All around her slumbering dryads rustled their leaves while lost in dreams, unaware of the foreigner in their midst. As she'd soon found out there were no vampires on Theros, nor any mention of them in historical texts, Lisandra resolved to keep her variety of undead-ness under wraps. Besides, these sleeping tree spirits weren't what she was after. That was something far rarer than a tree or rock given human form. A Meletian scholar had told the strangely dressed traveler before him that there existed a secret pool concealed in the woods outside of Setessa, the matriarchal city-state that worshipped Karametra. This pool, it was said, granted untold knowledge to all who gazed into it.

It was Lisandra's deepest wish to gaze into those waters and see what secrets she could find.

She didn't appear to be the only one intent on reaching the pool. After turning a corner she stumbled upon a creature that filled her with shock and terror. The torso was humanoid, with strong muscles and long flowing hair, but from the waist down the creature possessed the body of a strong horse, with rippling flanks and hooves powerful enough to crack stone. Memories of the Selesnya zealots who pursued her through the streets of Ravnica flooded Lisandra's mind. She hadn't felt physical fear since her transformation, but she felt psychological fear. In place of a tightness in her chest there was a cloudiness of her mind. She didn't sweat, but felt her logic drain away. Her hands were still as stone, but her thoughts were shaken to her very core. It took everything Lisandra had to not turn and run, crashing through the bushes like some deranged animal.

"Out for a little walk in the moonlight?" the centaur asked, tossing her white hair and looking at the young woman with curiosity.

"Something like that," Lisandra stammered.

"If you seek the Pool of Stars, simply continue on this path until you reach its end," the centaur said, smiling calmly. Lisandra looked around in confusion. There was no path.

"H-how do you know that's what I'm looking for?" Lisandra demanded.

"The Nyx, and the gods within it, work in mysterious ways," the centaur said, turning to leave.

Lisandra rolled her eyes. The gods had been a nonstop topic of conversation in Meletis. Karametra, the patron god of Setessa, was the god of harvests. Lisandra had been required to offer prayers not only to Karametra, but to Erebos, the god of death, and Ephara, the god of Poleis as well. The prayers were hollow and tasted like ash in her mouth. One god, however, intrigued her. There was a depiction of a thin man with a golden mask tucked away in a less than savory corner of Meletis. Lisandra had the feeling she'd seen him before. After some short inquiries, she'd discovered his name was Phenax and that he was the god of deception, a deity for thieves and those who loved secrets and wished to cheat their destinies.

Lisandra continued along the nonexistent path, searching for the supposedly telltale sparkle of the Pool of Stars. She thought she caught something out of the corner of her eye and immediately turned to the left, excitement starting to get the better of her. She wasn't as careful, snapping twigs here and there while her breath, now more of a habit than a necessity, came in short gasps.

I'm almost there, she told herself, and soon I'll see what this is all about.

Lisandra's foot caught on a rock, sending her face first into the Pool of Stars. The still water reflected the stars above. There weren't any stars on this cloudy night but still they glittered and twinkled. Some even appeared to move, dancing around one another. A red star relentlessly pursued a green star, leaving many smaller silver stars in its wake. They dotted the shifting, blue-purple-black velvet of the night, forming their own shapes as they roamed through the starfield. In the instant before Lisandra's entry broke the surface and sent the complicated dance rippling away, she thought it was beautiful.

Thin, bony hands seemed to grip her shoulders and pull her deeper.

"Hey!" Lisandra protested. Her eyes widened, surprised that she could even speak underwater.

The hands removed themselves as Lisandra attempted to stand up straight. She was still floating, her dark hair drifting around her like she was still underwater, but this water felt like air.

The bony hands were attached to a thin man, impossibly thin around the middle, with long, curving horns and cloven feet. A whip with a golden handle hung at his side. Lisandra had seen this god before, it was Erebos, the god of death.

"Before you ask if you are dead," Erebos said, "allow me to remind you that you would be seeing Athreos, not me, so soon after dying."

"So if I'm not dead, then what is this place?"

"An intermediary, so to speak, between the gods and mortals. It allows us to communicate with you more effectively than, say, writing prophecies on the backs of starfish and hiding them in the ocean."

"I did that one time." A conglomeration of stars that had taken the shape of a four-armed man produced this rebuttal.

"Nevertheless," Erebos continued, "you're here. What is it that you seek?"

"I seek knowledge in all its forms," Lisandra said automatically.

"No," Erebos said, furrowing his brow. "You seek something greater. To escape fate, to free yourself of the bonds of destiny. I'm sorry to tell you that is impossible. Everyone is bound to their fate, Lisandra Tandriss, including the gods."

"How do you know my name?"

"I heard your prayers, however tinged with skepticism they might have been." Erebos smirked, and then grew serious. "Since you first attempted to escape your fate, what has happened?"

"I've discovered secrets long thought lost. I've collected and preserved histories of forgotten worlds. I've gained mastery over my power. I've become _me_."

"You've searched for something bigger than yourself. These secrets and histories are your god, one whom you worship with your entire being in a way you couldn't worship true divinity," Erebos fired back. "You're still chasing that god you abandoned when you were small. Go back. Embrace your fate and you will feel the presence you so desire."

"I desire nothing you nor any other god can give me," Lisandra spat.

"Then you abandon yourself," Erebos faded away, leaving Lisandra by herself in the space in between the mortal realm and Nyx.

A glint of gold caught her eye. Something in the distance was moving towards her at roughly eye level. Two black eyes were framed by an approximation of a face, more stylistically pleasing than accurate. Lisandra had seen similar masks on the Returned, undead who wandered Theros without any clue to their past or their own name. There were some that said the Returned gave their souls to Phenax in exchange for never having to die, only to be deceived and live on as a husk of their former selves.

"I think I have something to offer you," Phenax said. He held out a simple book. Lisandra instinctively reached for it, but stopped herself.

"What do you want from me in return?"

"Clever girl," Phenax purred. "I, too, believe the only true power lies in knowledge and those who attain it. A thief attains the knowledge to pick a lock and thus lives another day outsmarting the locksmiths and striking fear into the general populace. That's a kind of power I can support. I would like you, Lisandra, to best every locksmith, and maybe let me see how things go along the way."

Phenax pressed the book into Lisandra's hands. He passed his palms over her knuckles, fingers delicately bushing her wrists. When he pulled his hands away, there was a pair of eyes emblazoned into the back of Lisandra's hands.

"Simply press your palms to your eyes and I can see what you see," Phenax said. Lisandra couldn't tell if he was smiling under the mask, but believed he was. "Now run along and prove Erebos wrong. You make your own fate."

"Where did you get this book?" Lisandra said, flipping through the pages. The author was a woman named Ashnod the Uncaring.

"Someone dropped it somewhere. I couldn't just let it get into the wrong hands once I realized what it was. We gods felt the Great Change on Theros as well. It's made Heliod paranoid in the centuries since. I knew that knowledge obtained from the time before must only go to the right person, and I believe that person is you," Phenax said. "Don't let me down, dear, or you'll wind up just like everyone else who has."

Lisandra found herself on the shore of the Pool of Stars at sunrise, completely dry and with no indication of what happened the previous night except the book cradled in her arms and the eyes of Phenax tattooed on her hands. She lifted her palms to her eyes experimentally.

"Excellent," Phenax said. "I'm pleased to see that it works."


	64. Chapter 64

Planar Chaos

Chapter 21: Where Are They Now?

"Rinok, I believe we're more lost than we were ten minutes ago," Vilhelm said.

"Impossible, I've been tracking our enemies with the utmost precision." Rinok retorted.

"You've been hand-drawing a map, and we've been going in circles. I've seen that same book on that platform over there three times now."

"Well excuse me for not having locals to intimidate for information."

"Personally I prefer interrogation," Vilhelm said. "They're more pliable that way."

"You haven't seen me intimidate yet."

"What I haven't seen are results, Rinok," Vilhelm said irritably.

"I'm doing my best, okay?" Rinok rounded on Vilhelm, a fire in his eyes. He drew his massive sword, leveling the bloodstained blade at the vampire planeswalker before him. "I don't see you helping me out any. The entire time you've been all talk and no action. It's time to see some action, Vilhelm. Are you a warrior or are you a valorless death-drinker?"

"I don't need to prove anything to you, Rinok."

"So you're a coward. I have no use for cowards." Rinok raised his sword, a seemingly impossible task given the size of the blade, and lunged.

Vilhelm leaned back, allowing the blade's arc to pass as close to his body as possible without being hurt.

"You remind me of a friend, Rinok," Vilhelm hissed, ice dripping from every syllable. Rinok's sword continued in its arc, taking the warrior planeswalker with it. "Mikhail was my blood-brother, always quick to anger and prideful."

"I suppose he carried you on his back as well," Rinok seethed.

"On the contrary," Vilhelm said coolly. "I was the one who carried him, mostly. That is certainly the case nowadays. He can't even make a decision without me." Vilhelm smirked at the thought of Mikhail sitting alone in the dark apartment Vilhelm kept for his thrall on Ravnica, only bringing the other vampire out when it suited him. "It takes two to make a cohesive unit, Rinok. A general has his trusted advisor. An Emporer has his confidante." Just keep talking, Vilhelm told himself, keep it soft and slow, just like dealing with Teysa during one of her hysterical fits. "Rinok, we can't let this little spat come between us like this. You've got to work alongside me, not next to me. There are certain things you're better at than I am, and I'm more than willing to let you utilize those strengths, but I can help make up for your weaknesses."

Rinok was heaving, the struggle of maintaining his sword form in the shifting gravity of Xerex had been more than he anticipated. Lifting the sword again seemed nearly impossible. Some force compelled it downward, almost as if it were being ripped from his hands by an invisible foe. When it slipped from his grasp it didn't even clatter. The metallic thud against the pathway they stood on echoed throughout the maze.

"Okay," Rinok huffed. "Me tracking obviously isn't working. What do you suggest?"

Vilhelm had taken a seat on the pathway, crossing his legs in a meditative position. "I'll find them my way."

"What is your way?"

"It requires concentration, I'll tell you that much," Vilhelm barked, opening one eye in annoyance.

What could he find in the area that could help them out? Vilhelm cast himself outward, searching for a mind to latch onto. It was so much easier when there were millions of lives on a plane. Xerex itself contained only a handful, and most of those were other planeswalkers who he couldn't affect if he wanted to for the time being. It would reveal too much. Rinok was one, and it didn't bother Vilhelm if Rinok could see his true nature. The others still needed to believe him the bumbling Orzhov debt collector.

There, a construct was waddling its way towards them with its jerky gait. Constructs themselves didn't have minds, but they could easily be reprogrammed if one knew how. Vilhelm was proud to say he knew how after spending years on Esper after his very first planeswalk. The only evidence were an Etherium-infused right leg and an intricate plate on the back of his neck mostly covered by his hair, which was always artfully arranged in a neat ponytail. Vilhelm had always been especially skillful at building walls, even as a mortal, and he'd been a natural leader once he joined the armies of the Falkenrath bloodline. His transformation into a planeswalker had only amplified these two characteristics. It was one thing to persuade people to his side. It was another thing to actually control them.

Whatever force that drove the construct was wiped clean by Vilhelm's magic and replaced with his own will. It was delicate work, Vilhelm couldn't subsume the entire 'mind' of this construct or it would be unable to navigate this maze of a plane. The construct halted on the platform that contained the book Vilhelm had used as a landmark. Its last wisps of purpose were expended to scoop up the book in its crab-claw sphere, similar to the one that had scooped up Rhyne and carried him off through the maze. It effortlessly stepped across the gap to the pathway Vilhelm and Rinok were on, fully under Vilhelm's control.

"Impressive," Rinok said.

"It is, isn't it?" Vilhelm smiled, getting up off the ground. He climbed up the construct

Rinok bent over to retrieve his sword, but it was still firmly attached to the ground. He couldn't even wrap his fingers around the hilt.

"Damn, it's still stuck," RInok growled. He yanked and pried, finally wedging his hand in between his steel blade and the pathway. He yanked upward, lifting with not just his legs, but his entire body. Whatever force was holding his sword disappeared, sending him flying backwards.

"Come along, Rinok," Vilhelm said, sitting astride the construct like a large, awkward horse. "We have a companion to find."

00000

"Honestly, Ashleigh," Marthel said, lifting himself up off of the ground where he'd been pinned by the weight of his swords, Brutality and Elegance, "that is the last time I ever let you touch any sort of button." Nadia helped him to his feet. She rubbed at her wrists and retrieved her own sword from the ground.

"Agreed," Sverre said, adjusting his helmet. "Although I suppose my secret is out now. My helmet and armor are only gold-plated, not solid gold."

The other party members, most of whom made a point to not wear common metal for one reason or another, snickered slightly. Ashleigh's Etherium combs, for instance, remained unaffected by the magnetic force activated by the button. Sa'Raah's armor was made of shed dragon scales. Brock's monk robes and Odom's guild robes were entirely without metal. This was for ease of movement for the former and a deep-seated fear of artifice outside of guild signets for the latter.

"I suppose we should continue," Brock coughed, trying to cover up his laughter.


	65. Chapter 65

Planar Chaos

Chapter 22: Reunion

"Oh, Lissy, I'm so happy to see you!" Ashleigh threw her arms around the vampire archivist, kissing both of her friend's cheeks in a greeting Brock and Marthel had seen while visiting Fiora's high city of Paliano. This knocked Lisandra's hood back, exposing her pointed ears.

"Nice to see you too, Ashleigh," Lisandra quickly returned the greeting and pulled the blue and black hood of her Dimir guild robes back into place.

"You're an elf," Odom said, crossing his arms. "Unusual combination."

"And you must be the boyfriend," Lisandra said. "You should know all about straddling the line between two guilds."

"In my case, the Izzet and the Simic have far more in common with each other than one would think upon first glance."

"Lissy ran away from the Selesnya and Mirko picked her to become a Dimir vampire agent," Ashleigh said cheerily. "Isn't that exciting?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Odom replied.

Lisandra arched an eyebrow. "Do I detect jealousy, Master Odom?"

Ashleigh allowed Lisandra to extricate herself from the embrace and then turned the sometimes too enthusiastic hugs onto Odom. His midsection was visibly deformed by the strength of Ashleigh's grip. Odom remained aloof for a few moments before succumbing to the hug.

"Lookie who we've got here," Sverre chuckled. He stood in front of Rhyne's cage where the feral walker was tracking everyone outside like prey. "I suppose you don't like being in there, do you?"

"It isn't ideal," Rhyne growled.

"Are those bite marks?" Sverre leaned down to inspect the bars of the cage. There were some scuffs and scratches that might have come from teeth.

"Lean a little closer and you'll find out," Rhyne sneered. Sverre immediately moved back, not wanting to test a predator who'd been cornered. He wandered off into the book towers after Odom and Ashleigh.

Marthel, in the meantime, was utterly mesmerized by the collection of books. He and Nadia began strolling through the towers of books, taking volumes that stood out to him and piling them in Nadia's arms. With each added tome Nadia merely rolled her eyes, relying on her angelic strength to be more powerful than Marthel's thirst for knowledge. However, as the books piled up Nadia became more concerned for her balance. Marthel haphazardly tossed books towards the top of the stack, trusting Nadia to catch them one way or another.

"I think you have enough, Jace Marthel," Nadia said, her wavering voice causing the dark-skinned walker to pause. Marthel couldn't help but giggle at the sight before him. A stack of books almost three feet high obscured Nadia's face. All that was visible were her outstretched wings fluttering to maintain balance and her shaking legs. "My kind are not meant to be pack mules."

Lisandra peered around a pile of books, all narrowed eyes and hard set lips. "You'd better be careful with those. Some are priceless and wholly irreplaceable."

"You can trust me," Marthel responded, feigning a hurt expression. "This collection is fantastic, even I can see that."

It wasn't until he sat down and opened the first book that Marthel realized just how fantastic it truly was. The top book contained research notes that had been meticulously copied in a neat, elegant hand with rough sketches of the artifacts being described cut from the original manuscript and pasted in place.

"So you found Urza's notes on the Thran empire?" Lisandra sat down next to Marthel on the floor. "Fascinating stuff. I wish I could visit Dominaria myself and see some of the artifacts in person."

"How did you translate all this?" Marthel looked up at Lisandra, totally awestruck.

Lisandra tapped her temple. "The Dimir employ psychic vampires, remember? Psychic energy isn't just housed within peoples' brains. It's in the things they touch, the things they value most of all. When Urza took these notes he was at a place in his life where they were the most important thing in the world to him. The psychic energies imprinted in his notes made it incredibly easy for me to translate them into a more universal language. There's hardly a planeswalker alive who doesn't speak Ravnican."

"Point taken," Marthel said. "I wish we had more than just the notes, though. There's so much I don't know about those early days when we were gods."

"You'll want this, then," Lisandra beckoned a book from another pile and it zinged over. " _Testimonies of the Nine Titans_ , it's an account of the war Urza, Freyalise, and others fought against the Phyrexians. This is the kind of power planeswalkers used to have. Even further back we have some accounts written by a woman name Rebbec, who I think according to the account took up with a planeswalker named Feroz after her husband, a famous artificer from an ancient Dominarian empire, was killed by a being called Yawgmoth. Sadly I don't have much of anything out of Dominaria post-mending. I'm not entirely sure how it happened, I just know that prior to it there's a surge of texts authored by a Teferi of Zhalfir deposited here in the maze talking about something he called a time rift. At least that is what it translates to."

"I've heard of Yawgmoth. Surprisingly enough his name is whispered on the plane of New Phyrexia, a world formerly called Mirrodin," Marthel said, his expression growing grim. "What I want to tease out is whether he's just a man, a deity, or a planeswalker."

"From what I've read he never had a spark and just utilized Thran technology and other planeswalkers. There's some research notes around here somewhere of his vivisection of a planeswalker woman named Dyfed. That said, I would like to visit New Phyrexia so I can determine if there is some sort of psychic energy in Phyrexian oil that could explain how his memory crossed planes long after Phyrexia was supposedly destroyed." Lisandra rooted through Marthel's selected texts. "You've got a nice selection here." She pushed her hair out of her face, passing both palms over her eyes briefly as she did so. A glimpse of this new walker would be all Phenax needed.

"Fascinating theory," Marthel said. He returned to his book and would remain in that spot reading for several days.

Brock had immediately leapt off of Maelstrom Wanderer's back and raced through the towers of books with a speed rivaling a wind kami. Some of the smaller constructs that managed Lisandra's library had their little legs full trying to catch all the pages Brock's haste dispersed. He'd immediately noticed that there were two empty cages and Rhyne was housed in one of them. Kyari might have been in one of the others, or she might not have been. What Brock needed to know was whether or not she was dead. If he couldn't find her, this entire library might erupt in flames of divine retribution, knowledge be damned.

Brock rounded a corner and came to a stop. Sitting amongst a small army of clockwork spiders was Kyari. A couple had crawled up onto her shoulders and one had even taken up residence on her head like some sort of hat. She was intently studying the one in her hand while taking notes without even glancing at the page. Her long, dark hair was taken out of its customary braid and rearranged by the curious constructs' surprisingly dexterous limbs.

"Similar design to the hedron crawlers of Zendikar," Kyari muttered to herself. "Purpose seems to be organization," she glanced back at her hair, "make that reorganization. Cooperation requires hivemind or metaconscious, possibly connected via the stones embedded in the cephalothorax. Operate in units of eight, each unit member having a different colored headstone."

"Kyari," Brock breathed. "You're okay."

She glanced up. "Hello, Brock. When did you get here?"

"Just now," he sat down next to her. A couple of the clockwork spiders abandoned Kyari's hair and began exploring Brock's robes. "Are you okay? She didn't lock you in a cage, did she? Because mark my words, if she did…"

"Brock, it's fine. The cages are just a research tool. Remember that time you came to Theros with me and the only way I could get close enough to a Leucrocota to study it effectively was to lock it in a detention sphere?"

"I still don't like that spell, nor do I like that Odom taught it to you," Brock sighed.

"You can't deny its effectiveness. All magic can be abused, Brock, but that doesn't make it bad. The cages are necessary to ensure Lisandra's safety, and can you blame her when you see who's in them?"

"I did see Rhyne in there. He seemed cross."

"That man exists cross," Kyari said. She hadn't broken her scribbling.

"I'm just glad you're safe. I honestly feared the worst when I saw two empty cages and was greeted by a vampire." Brock scooted closer, attempting to nonchalantly put his arm around Kyari's shoulders. When she turned to look at him he played it off as a yawn. Kyari scooted closer to him, leaning her head against his.

"I'm glad you're okay too, Brock. If Rhyne is here that means Rinok isn't too far away. I'm also not entirely sure about Vilhelm either. Something about him didn't sit right with me at Marthel's little gathering."

"I suppose I should tell you that the Voidcaller and I got into a fight on the way here."

"You actually ran into them?"

"Yeah. They turned out to be the only way any of us could navigate the maze. We had to leave behind the hydra too. It broke free of my control and then it was impossible to bring it with us on the back of Maelstrom Wanderer."

Kyari stopped writing, the charcoal in her hand snapping into dust. The eight clockwork spiders scattered. Brock felt more than saw Kyari's jaw tighten as every muscle in her body wound up like a spring. Her eyes were wide, staring blankly ahead.

"You did what to my hydra?"

"Left it behind?" Brock suggested, hoping she hadn't heard the part about controlling it.

"Yes, I know that. It's a big hydra and can take care of itself. But you did what to my hydra?"

"Kyari, this is back to your cage thing. Sometimes I have to do things in order to make things safer. One of those things is controlling creatures who are dangerous or uncooperative."

"Oh no. This is entirely different. You removed something's will, you took away the very thing you claim to protect, Brock. And what's worse you did it to my hydra after I made you promise you wouldn't."

"I don't remember that part," Brock said, scratching his bald head. "I know you don't like it, but I don't exactly recall you saying I couldn't. Besides, finding you was more important."

"Oh, so just because I talk my life is more important than the life of another creature? All life is important, Brock, even these little clockwork creatures have life that can be understood and respected."

"I don't see you going all 'save the creatures' on the Phyrexian beasts that invaded Mirrodin." Brock crossed his arms.

"That's different. That's a foreign force destroying the ecology of the plane. That is what I have problems with. Foreign forces meddling with the environment, warping and destroying it."

"But what if that foreign force winds up saving something that otherwise wouldn't have been saved? What then?"

"Then the world does not progress naturally."

"You sound just like her," Brock said, standing up and turning his back to Kyari. "Tamiyo's told me the exact same thing before."

"You did not just compare me to your mother."

"Shes' not my mother, Kyari. Sadly I don't have one of those."

"Just get out. Get out and don't come back until you have my hydra."

"Fine." Brock stalked off through the towers of books. He found Sa'Raah flipping through a section of the library containing books about dragons. She was reading aloud to Abby, who sat contentedly in Sa'Raah's lap. Brock was only halfway paying attention to what the books were about. Some account of an old dragon war between dragons, one of which was named Nicol Bolas. Brock had heard the name before in reference to Ugin, but didn't have time to dwell on it.

He grabbed Lisandra by the shoulder and spun her around.

"You're going to send your little spider thing and find the hydra we had to leave behind."

Lisandra did not like being told what to do. "And if I refuse?"

"If you refuse, I burn these books to ash."

"Brock!" Marthel cried. "That is no way to be gracious to our host. DIdn't the Ojutai teach you manners?"

"I don't care about that right now. What I need is for Lisandra to command her construct to bring us the hydra."

Marthel sighed. "You and Kyari got into it over the hydra, didn't you?"

"I don't exactly see why it means so much to her, but it does. And I'm going to make sure she gets it back."

Lisandra took a step back. "I'll get you your hydra, just please try and control that temper of yours. This is a priceless collection."

"I'm sure it is," Brock muttered under his breath.

Sa'Raah had stopped reading aloud, fully absorbed in the book she was reading. Abby didn't seem to mind, though, since there were some rough sketches in the book depicting the battle between the elder dragons. Nicol Bolas emerged victorious, but that did not feel right to Sa'Raah. Dragons didn't need to destroy each other to achieve greatness. They were already great. If they banded together in their greatness they could have all the power they wanted ruling over lesser beings. Her conversation with Sarkhan before she left on this insane errand echoed through her head. He personally hoped she never met Nicol Bolas, the dragon that had driven him mad for years. Sa'Raah, on the other hand, hoped she did meet him. Perhaps he could be made to see the reason in her plans just as she had been made to see reason by Dromoka.

Rinok and Vilhelm touched down on the platform, the construct shuddering to a halt and dropping the book in its claw. They were certain this was the right place for them to be when they saw Maelstrom Wanderer parked like a large vehicle. The blue wisps around the bark-covered elemental's head wafted in a gentle breeze.

"Remind me again why he doesn't use that thing to start fights?" Rinok asked Vilhelm.

"Because," Vilhelm replied, "they're fights he knows he'd win."

"Is that Rhyne?" Rinok asked, pointing to one of three cages.

"I believe it is." Vilhelm strode over. "Hello, Rhyne. What sort of pickle have you gotten yourself into this time?"

"I'm just fine, thank you, I don't need you two to rescue me."

"Ah, good ole Rhyne," Rinok smiled. "Glad to see they haven't taken that fighting spirit."

"Less fighting spirit and more murderous instinct," Rhyne corrected, "but no, the bitches haven't broken me yet. Once I get out of here there's plenty of firewood to make some roasted planeswalker. That little vampire snip is first. I've never eaten death-drinker before." He smiled slyly at Vilhelm who took a step back.

"Something tells me it's not particularly nutritious," Rinok said, looking down at his flexed triceps.

"I look at it more as nutrition for the soul. Imagine it, Rinok, devouring death itself."

"Death has its place on the battlefield. The weak are culled and the strong survive. I have no desire to see the end of death."

"If I may interject," Vilhelm said, "I believe we have some company."

Lisandra was standing behind them all tapping her foot in annoyance, an uneasy task in her black thigh high heeled boots. Her hands rested on her hips, just above the waist of her skirt, exposing her midriff. She flicked her dark hair out of her face and frowned, one fang poking out.

"I take it you're companions?" She glanced between the two new planeswalkers and Rhyne.

"You should recognize me at least, after you rudely barged in on my thoughts," Vilhelm said. He never could get over the fact that Ravnican vampires did not have the same gray tinge to their skin shared by their Innistrad and Zendikari brethren. It had led to the assumption among the Orzhov that Vilhelm had a dark complexion before his transformation into a vampire and that the experience of turning had made his hair go pale.

"Yes, the hiding mind mage, pleased to finally meet you in person." Lisandra was, in truth, anything but pleased. "So glad of you to drop by uninvited."

"You kidnapped our comrade, miss," Rinok said. "We had little choice but to give chase."

"And you had to go and destroy one of my research assistants. I'm so thankful for that." Lisandra walked over to where the broken down construct had dropped its book. She scooped the tome off of the ground and thumbed through it, going paler if it were possible. She immediately placed the book inside of a pocket in the lining of her guild robes and turned back to the three men. "I suppose you're both more interesting than the cannibal over there. And you two seem to have an appreciation for knowledge. Feel free to browse, but be warned. I know every book in this library. I'll know if one is missing."

"Do you have a section dedicated to warfare?" Rinok asked, eyes glowing.

"Southeast quadrant, third tower from the left," Lisandra said, gesturing in the appropriate direction.

"I'll just browse, then," Vilhelm said as Rinok scampered away, abandoning Rhyne to his fate of remaining inside the cage.

"No fights and no murders," Lisandra called after them.

She turned and left Rhyne, wandering through her towers of books. Lisandra sat down beside Sa'Raah.

"What are you reading?" she asked.

"Just books about dragons," Sa'Raah said.

Lisandra gently probed the clever dragon-girl's mind. "All you know is dragons. And what is this little thing?"

"This," Sa'Raah put her book down and held Abby up for Lisandra to see, "is Abby. It's a hybrid creature made by Odom and Ashleigh. I think the proper term for something like this on Ravnica is a Krasis."

"It's not like any krasis I've ever seen," Lisandra picked up the strange creature, an amalgam of tentacles, wings, a draconic tail, and a couple of other features. Most notable were the large, dark eyes that seemed to draw one into their depths. She pushed her hair back again, eager to let Phenax see the creature before her. He seemed more interested in the planeswalker next to her, though.

"You don't happen to suffer from memory loss, do you?" Lisandra asked, handing Abby back to Sa'Raah.

"I don't remember anything before I was already a young woman, destroying dragons on Jund."

"Maybe there's a way I can help you find those memories," Lisandra said, holding up her hands. "I acquired these emblems some time ago, and they sometimes help see what's hidden."

"Well," Sa'Raah wasn't sure. She did want to know about her life before her spark ignited, but what if she wasn't happy with it? What if it was terrifying or traumatic?

"There's no need to hide your past from yourself, Sa'Raah. Let me help you." Lisandra had already kneeled behind the dragon girl, placing her palms over Sa'Raah's eyes. Phenax had better know what he's doing, Lisandra thought.

Sa'Raah's mind was overwhelmed by a cascade of color and light. She shut her eyes against the brightness, but when she opened them she was no longer sitting in the library. She stood with her brothers and sisters in arms, ready to face the huge beast swinging through the sky on dark wings. There was another man with them, a man she recognized but didn't know. His light hair was pulled into a tight horsetail at the base of his skull. His skin was a strange grayish color. Metal glinted on the back of his neck. An Aethersworn from Esper, no doubt. She remembered an argument between this man and one of their elders about his mission to infuse life with etherium, something she and the other elves found wholly repugnant. They were to escort the man to their borders, but that was when the dragon attacked. It was a beast heretofore unseen in the lush jungles of Naya, but some believed the Anima, Mayael, had visions of dragons and prophesied their coming. In a moment of panic, she felt something latching on to her mind, something trying to drain it away and another something trying to force itself in.

No. She wouldn't allow it. Couldn't allow it. She locked eyes with the man, who she now recognized from another memory, but this one was in the far-flung future after she'd spent years learning how to kill dragons and years more learning to love them fiercely.

As the once separate planes were coming into contact, she vanished, bouncing between her world and the one the dragon had crossed over from again and again until it became a blur and she no longer knew her own name.

"Vilhelm," Sa'Raah breathed, coming back up out of the memory. "It was him."

"Interesting," Lisandra said, pulling out a parchment and some charcoal. "Do you mind if I record all that?"

"What? No. It's fine. Go for it." Sa'Raah looked down at the creature in her lap. Abby looked up at Sa'Raah with curious eyes, as if to ask her what she'd do next.


	66. Chapter 66

Planar Chaos

Chapter 23: The Thesis

"Marthel," Lisandra barked, pulling the dark-skinned walker out of his reading. His angelic attaché had wandered off in search of references to the old god of her home plane, Asha. Lisandra had her own theories about Asha, possibly that she was an alias for the ancient planeswalker Serra, but those theories were kept to herself for the time being.

"What can be so important that you interrupt me right now?" Marthel huffed, pushing a stray loc out of his face. He carefully marked his place in the book he'd been reading with a silk ribbon provided by Lisandra.

"This." She held up the book her now ruined construct had delivered. The ragged binding betrayed its age. The cover wasn't bound in leather, but rather a cloth covered board. Stamped on the front in faded gold leaf were letters Marthel couldn't recognize but that Lisandra could read clearly. She sat down next to him, carefully opening the dying book. Brittle, well-thumbed pages marred by dog ears, the most abhorrent thing anyone could do to a book in Lisandra's opinion, contained a treasure trove written in ink.

"What language is that?" Marthel asked, leaning in close to get a better look.

"I refer to it as Middle Dominarian, a pre-Ice Age dialect distinct from the Thran language in some major syntax structures, specifically a reordering of adjectives and positioning them before the word rather than after. This is the language Urza spoke and wrote. And I mean that literally. This is another one of his writings." She pointed to a signature Marthel recognized from the other texts, specifically from diagrams cut and pasted into the restored and translated works.

"Well get translating!" Marthel shrieked. The delight on his face couldn't be masked, but the shrillness in his voice brought Nadia back from wherever she'd wandered off to.

She swooped in, sword drawn. "What's wrong?"

"Nadia, it's fine, I'm fine." Marthel tried soothing the angel. "You're paranoid."

"Of course you're fine," Nadia rolled her eyes. "Just like you were fine when you demolished three Azorius cellblocks."

Lisandra turned to Marthel in intrigue. "The Rise from Hell? That was you?"

Marthel blushed. "A bit of it was, yeah. But never mind that. Get back to your translating."

From somewhere on her person Lisandra had produced a quill, an ink pot, and several pages of parchment. "Way ahead of you."

00000

"So many books," Ashleigh sighed. She was reminded of Gnarls and his own collection of works kept in the crypt of her cathedral home. "I hope Gnarls is okay," she said quietly. The angels that had descended upon her home would have likely destroyed her entire retinue of imp and devil servants.

"Who?" Odom said, grabbing books at random.

"Gnarls, my butler."

"I'm sure he's fine. Now come on. There's science to be done."

"Odom," Ashleigh said, "we're just picking out random books."

"And these books are going to wind up serving the purpose of letting me do more science."

"…Us?"

"Us, of course." Odom kicked himself mentally. He manifested another arm and wrapped it around Ashleigh's waist. "When we get out of here we're going to take everything we learned to Niv Mizzet together."

"I thought Ral said I wasn't allowed in the laboratory complex after Bring Your Significant Other to Work Day?"

Odom sighed contentedly. "That was my first and only attempt to boost the working culture in the league. You were fantastic, Zarek's just a worrywart and a fun-sucker. Niv loves you, he's very interested in you coming back, possibly joining the guild for real this time."

"Really?" Ashleigh perked up then immediately deflated. "It's so loud on Ravnica, though… I can hardly get a decent night's sleep."

"That's what Abby's for," Odom reminded her.

They rounded a corner and found Sa'Raah clutching Abby protectively as Rinok and Vilhelm stared her down. The look of horror on Sa'Raah's face and the glimmer of recognition in her eye led Ashleigh and Odom to the conclusion something was amiss.

"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" Odom said, walking out into the middle of the brewing altercation.

"No problems here," Vilhelm said, attempting to smooth over the situation with his characteristic charm. "Rinok was just regaling me once again with his plan of eternal interplanar warfare when we stumbled upon Miss Sa'Raah and that delightful creation of yours."

The hard set of Vilhelm's jaw betrayed his own anxiety. Sa'Raah knew. Somehow she'd recovered her memory and realized what had transpired years ago on Alara when Vilhelm had been in the service of the Aethersworn of Esper. He'd perfected his charismatic character on that plane, moving from military leader to evangel, but the military came back when he was threatened. At the moment, Vilhelm felt incredibly threatened.

"Odom, take Sa'Raah and Abby to a different part of the library," Ashleigh said coldly. Her eyes didn't leave Rinok and Vilhelm. "I'm going to have a word with the boys."

"Ashleigh, are you sure?" Sa'Raah asked.

Lightning sparked around Ashleigh's hands by way of a response.

"That beast of yours is truly impressive," Rinok said as Odom led Sa'Raah and Abby away.

"Thank you. A mother couldn't be prouder." Ashleigh kept her gaze level. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as the electric currents flowed through her body.

"Why protect them?" Vilhelm blurted out.'

Ashleigh looked at the vampire in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"They hold you back. Why protect them? Why not be rid of them and be free?"

Rinok took a step back and let Vilhelm do what he did best.

The lightning around Ashleigh's hands didn't sparkle as brightly. "They're my friends."

"Friends," Vilhelm said gently, "don't keep you from realizing your full potential." He knew he'd struck a nerve. "Friends help you achieve your goals. They don't hold you back with petty distractions. What is the one thing you want most in this world?"

"A moment's silence."

"No."

"…No?" Ashleigh's thin, arched eyebrows knit together.

"You want to be set free of them and their rules." Vilhelm smiled pleasantly.

"I suppose it's not always good when I accidentally destroy something, or someone…" Ashleigh trailed off. The lightning stopped.

"They won't let you exercise those destructive impulses. It's their fault you can't exist as your true self. It's their fault you're not free. It's their fault you can't get a moment of silence and peace. They won't let you create that kind of world because they only see you as a destroyer."

"But I created Abby," Ashleigh protested.

"Odom created the creature," Vilhelm corrected her, nudging her ever so gently in the right direction. "He used your powers to bring it to life because he's weak. He's enslaved you to do his hard work for him."

Ashleigh took a step back. "That isn't true."

Vilhelm smiled wickedly. "Look inside yourself. You know it's true. He loves you, does he? How many people have ever really loved you as you truly are and how many just love the sterilized persona you project?"

He turned to smile at Rinok and when he looked back to Ashleigh she was gone.

She ran headlong through the library, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. There had to be a place where she could be by herself. The labyrinth of books mirrored the maze of Xerex and soon Ashleigh found herself lost. She crumpled to the floor, attracting a unit of the spiderlings that kept the library organized. As she sat there with her head in her hands, they constructed a small book fort around her. She let one crawl onto her hand and examined its delicate structures. A stray spark of lightning leapt from her finger and caused the artifact creature to short out. The other seven immediately stopped working, unable to function without the eighth.

"No," Ashleigh cried. "No, no, no, no, nonononono…"

000000

"Sverre," Marthel called the older walker over to where he and Lisandra sat, completely consumed in their quest to translate this new text. "How much do you know about ancient Dominarian languages?"

"Every mage who studied at any of the academies learned some of the historical dialects," Sverre said, sitting down on Lisandra's other side. "What's giving you trouble?"

"This book," Lisandra held up the small volume. "We know it's a thesis, but we aren't sure about the translation of some of the words. It's strange. I should be able to read it perfectly, but there's some other energy muddling that of the author's." Come to think of it, Lisandra thought, there was an energy muddling Sverre as well.

"Hm… This is Old Argivian, a common dialect mostly spoken by educated humans and used as a language of trade during the era preceding the Ice Age, the era of the Brothers' War." Sverre carefully took the book from Lisandra's hands and began to read. "'The strange power gifted to me by Glacian has given me unprecedented insight into not only the Thran Empire but into the workings of the multiverse itself. The stones now hidden in my eyes contain his essence and he directs my hand as an unseen muse to lay down these discoveries and theories for those to come.

"'First, let it be known that my kind, the ones who can step between worlds, are not an anomaly. We are as the universe intended. Once the universe was small, once it was whole and the thing we now call the aether was just a sea around us. Then came the first of our kind. Then came the first god. I call the first of our kind Rift. They had no idea of the chaos they caused, but they are the reason why the multiverse is the multiverse. They took the one we were and made us into many, with the Song of Dominia, or the Wheel, at the center.

"'But in the shattering of that first world, what did the Rift give us? Theories abound and explorations prove that the universe would have kept expanding until the point of breaking, collapsing in on itself in a moment of annihilation as seen with the death of Serra's Realm once its source of cohesion finally failed. Rift gave us the best possible gift: Eternity. But should we thank the Rift? This was the first discord. Glyphs from the ancient worlds tell us war started when the planes split. I have experienced such a war firsthand, a war against my own brother when the world of Phyrexia and its mad ruler, Yawgmoth, once again found a way into Dominaria. The gods, the planeswalkers, born of and passed between different worlds may be either agents of harmony or discord. Whether what has transpired is ultimately beneficial, I cannot say. I know only it will continue to transpire until an equilibrium is reached.

"'The multiverse is, in a way, no different from a mortal body. It has a way of trimming the waste and age. I have heard whispers of beings called the Elder Ones who swim through the aether between worlds as fish in water and devour planes whole. Worse yet they drain them dry and let them slowly fade into oblivion. Is this a malevolent force or one that was born of the very same cloth that made the Rift in the first place? I would believe it to be the latter, a system of checks and balances to prevent too many planes from crowding the multiverse and stretching the sources of mana too thin, weakening all the worlds' magics.

"I know there will be a time where I, like the Rift, will be forgotten. My research may not pass the test of time, so I have left a trail to this place, the farthest plane I could find away from Phyrexian incursion and inside a labyrinth only the most determined can solve. My last work lies at the center of this maze world, I leave it and the sum of my knowledge to you. Whether good or evil, you are the chronicler of our existence now.'"

Sverre took a deep breath and let out a long, low whistle. Marthel and Lisandra were speechless, identical dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

"We wanted to know what was in here," Marthel said at last.

"Seems like we have our answer," Lisandra replied. "After so much time searching, I've finally found out why it's all here."

Sverre cleared his throat. "I think we've only got one choice now. We have to find out what this last work of his even is. I always thought the Legacy was his ultimate work, that's how it was described in the historical records of Dominaria. But if there's something more, something tangible at the bottom of this place we need to get there. After all,"

Marthel finished the sentence for him, "he's left _this_ legacy to us."

0000000

 **AN: Shout out to the man behind the character of Marthel for giving me a huge help with Urza's Thesis.**


	67. Chapter 67

Planar Chaos

One Shots: The Cell Block Tango

Marthel rolled out of bed to a pounding on his door. He stumbled across his bedroom, tripping and pulling the curtains open to reveal the shimmering spires of the Church of Deals caught in the noonday sun that graced the world outside of his townhouse.

"Nadia forgot her key again," he grumbled, pulling on pants so as not to make the angel uncomfortable. From what Marthel had gathered, angels possessed no primary sex characteristics and his angel in particular was both confused and embarrassed by mortal anatomy.

He swiped his knuckleblade fur jacket off of a chair and shrugged it over his shoulders. The pounding continued, but this time accompanied by a loud voice shouting "In the name of the Grand Arbiter and the Guildpact, open this door!"

"I'm coming," Marthel called, unsure of why justicars would be banging on his door at such an absurdly early hour. He rubbed his throbbing temples and commented "that's the last time I drink with elves," knowing it to be a boldfaced lie. He tied back his locs with a leather cord before opening the door. He wanted to get a good look at the justicar disturbing his traditional Temur hangover cure.

"Jace Marthel, you are under arrest." The words had barely been processed by Marthel's brain before cuffs were slapped around his wrist and he was being dragged to an armored transport. No less than seven justicars had been sent to arrest him.

"Uh, excuse me," Marthel said. When he was ignored, he increased the pitch and volume of his voice. "Excuse me! What exactly am I being arrested for?"

"We received a tip that this house was being utilized as a base of operations for a smuggling and money-laundering ring. Contacts with the Orzhov confirm the tipster's initial suspicions. You are under arrest as the ringleader of said organization." The justicar didn't so much as look at Marthel when she spoke to him.

"But I'm innocent!" Marthel protested. He struggled against the thick handcuffs. They only grew tighter.

"The prisoner will remain silent." The justicar's voice took on a double tone and Marthel found himself unable to speak. He spent the majority of his ride in the armored transport attempting to make a noise and being unable to get air past his vocal cords.

At least they aren't cruel, he thought to himself. He'd certainly had cruel jailers during his time roaming from plane to plane. There had been times where he would have wasted away without Nadia's intervention. The strength of angels was something to be feared no matter what world he found himself on, but the Azorius had no fear of those more powerful than they. The laws were on their side and law magic had a very powerful position on the plane of Ravnica. The Guildpact worked tirelessly to keep any one guild from gaining the upper hand over the other nine. So far it had been a success.

The justicars roughly tossed Marthel out of the transport. He was hauled up by his armpits and ushered through the halls of a large prison made of the same pristine white marble as the towers of New Prahv. That had been the first sight Marthel had seen upon planeswalking to Ravnica, and the blue form of Isperia settled on top of the highest tower had taken his breath away. At the moment, however, a blue sphinx with all powerful wisdom wouldn't be coming to his rescue. He doubted even Trostani and the Selesnya Conclave could convince the Azorius of his innocence. Then again, Marthel was a human. Trostani did have a certain distrust of humanity and their variable nature as a race. There wasn't any consistency, what she termed harmony, among humans the way elves seemed to live in harmony with one another and their ideals. Occasionally her proselytizing began to fall into a flat monotone in Marthel's ears, but her guild was an incredibly calming place to be whenever Marthel was feeling stressed.

The walls of the prison block rose around him. They almost reminded him of the stalwart cities of Bant, but that memory was tainted by the aftermath of the Conflux. Bant had fallen. It was no more and he and Nadia were all that was left of that once thriving kingdom of order. Marthel didn't miss the order, per se, he just missed the comfort of knowing what was expected of him. It was a simpler time when he didn't have the burden of the secrets of the multiverse on his shoulders. Nadia provided some relief from that burden outside of his loose network of planeswalker friends.

Speaking…er… thinking of Nadia, where was she? She'd surely be back at the house by now.

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Nadia arrived home with an armful of groceries and the distinct smell of death hovering around her. She breathed through her mouth, trying her best to keep the stench that lingered on the produce, cheerfully labelled with bright stickers "Fresh from the Golgari Rot Farms!" She fished around in her satchel for the house key and stopped dead in her tracks. The door hung open, hinges creaking in the breeze. A notice pinned to the doorjamb bore the Azorius guild crest.

A pile of fresh produce was now horribly bruised and the air was filled with the frantic flapping of an angel's wings and a string of colorful swears Nadia did not learn on Bant.

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Marthel was tossed into a cell, hands still bound. He'd begun to lose feeling in his fingertips. The door slammed shut and the soft blue glow of a stasis field radiated from the walls. A small, black mound shifted as the justicars left them alone. Marthel scooted back to the wall.

"They finally give me a cell mate, huh?" A woman with dark hair caught up in a loose bun emerged from the dark cloak. Black feathers fluttered to the ground.

"I suppose," Marthel said defensively.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," the woman said. She extended her hands, also bound in cuffs, towards Marthel. "My name is Ashleigh."

"Marthel," he replied, shaking her hand awkwardly.

"So, Marthel, you ready to blow this joint?" Ashleigh smiled wickedly. "I'm sure my boyfriend misses me terribly, and you've got a friend or two searching for you as well, I imagine."

Marthel smirked. "What do you have in mind? These aren't just standard issue cuffs."

"They also can't stand up to a good spark jolt." Lightning crackled around Ashleigh's hands. She gripped Marthel's handcuffs and poured electrical energy through them, frying their locking mechanisms. Marthel's cuffs fell away.

"How can you do magic in here?" Marthel asked, rubbing his wrists as Ashleigh removed her own cuffs. "The law magic of the Guildpact should keep everything in order."

"Honey, I'm not from here." That was her only explanation.

"Honestly," Marthel said, "neither am I."

"You ready to burn this place to the ground?"

"They locked me up on false charges. Absolutely."

The guards outside were completely caught off guard when the door to one of their maximum security cells was blown off its hinges by a fireball twirling around a fork of red lightning. Ashleigh and Marthel bolted out, their spell abandoned to wreak whatever havoc it could in its brief lifetime. Various other cells were blasted open and a slew of criminals joined in their prison break. Guards were either incapacitated or outright killed and resurrected as zombies to aid in their escape.

"That," Marthel said, stopping at the door to their block, "is going to be a problem."

Ashleigh cracked her knuckles. "I don't think so. Get behind me."

The gaggle of prisoners crowded in behind the crazed electromancer. Ashleigh planted her feet and dug deep into her power, dredging up any spells she could find floating around in the memories of the people around her.

"Ooh," she once again donned the wicked smile. "Marthel do you mind if I borrow this?"

"Borrowing implies an intent to return," he responded. This woman had to be a planeswalker. He could just feel it. There was no way she could do these things and not have a spark. But she was still full of surprises. Cracks appeared around the edges of the door and radiated outward, loud peals of thunder alerting them to new shatter points behind and beyond the doors. Marthel pulled a sword off of a zombie in anticipation of the bloodbath that was to come. He licked his lips as part of the ceiling crumbled away, landing mere inches away yet eliciting no response from Marthel.

The door crumbled and an army of justicars and members of the Boros legion stood in the way of Marthel's little band of prisoners.

"Halt in the name of the Grand Arbiter and the Guildpact!"

"I don't think so," Marthel shouted, leaping into action. His sword glowed white hot as it cleaved through flesh. He smiled wildly, each shriek of agony music to his ears.

"Having fun?" Ashleigh called from somewhere in the fray.

"Absolutely," Marthel responded. Blood splattered across his face. Bodies that could still function were raised into an ever growing army of zombies.

"Have you ever raised a corpse before?" Ashleigh asked, catching up to him. Her hair was caked in blood and it had smeared across her face, Marthel's little ragtag battalion was not holding together well at all.

"I can do a lot of things, Ashleigh," Marthel said, catching his breath, "but I'm not good at all of them."

The scene unfolding before the justicars was one out of their worst nightmares. Two prisoners who were certainly powerful, but not overly so, had broken out of their cell and torn their way through two cell blocks, freeing others along the way. Their fallen comrades were immediately defiled and turned on them, slicing through their brothers in arms without so much as a spark of recognition. The walls of their prison, once pristine white, were crumbling around them. The chain of command was broken and they were rapidly running out of options.

To make matters worse, a deranged angel was banging on the door demanding for their newest prisoner's release. Her sword was unsheathed and several Boros angels had engaged her in battle only to be beaten back.

"She fights with great strength," one of the angels cried to a soldier below who had decided to try his luck. Within moments his head was rolling across the ground and the renegade angel continued beating down the door.

The smoldering ruins of the prison cell blocks behind them created a terrifying image for the everyday citizen when Marthel and Ashleigh at last erupted triumphantly like a volcano of unholy fire and lightning. Four city blocks in each direction went dark due to the overload on their power systems from the wild spurts of lightning crackling between Ashleigh and various metallic conduits. Marthel had reached full on beast mode, flinging demonic fire at whoever stood in his path, trapping them with roots and reveling in their cries of anguish when their pleas for mercy had no effect.

It was the deranged look in his eyes that told Nadia she needed to go into damage control mode. She pushed her way through the fighting until she came face to face with Marthel and wrapped her strong arms around him, holding him in place. The fire began to fizzle, but his erratic heartbeat and quick, shallow breaths remained.

"Jace Marthel, I think you've done enough," she said softly in his ear.

Marthel closed his eyes. When he reopened them, his breathing had instead become deep and ragged. He was exhausted, completely beat, and collapsed against Nadia. They ducked down a side street and hurried away from the aftermath of his daring escape.

"Nadia, I think we'll need to move. I hear the area around Nivix is lovely and has far less crime."


	68. Chapter 68

**AN: I do my best on the lore with these, guys, but a lot of it, especially the older stuff, isn't readily accessible from WOTC anymore, so I'm having to rely on wikis and other sites of varying credibility. At this point, I ask that you take my diversions as artistic license or an alternate multiverse, since being an alternate universe doesn't quite capture the scope of these goings on.**

Planar Chaos

Chapter 24: Herding a Hydra

"Blast!" Brock cursed. The large spider construct had brought him back to where he'd left Kyari's hydra, but the beast was nowhere in sight. "I specifically told it to not wander off."

A nagging voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Marthel asked if he really had. To be honest, Brock couldn't actually remember what he'd said in the tense moments that was escaping a rampaging hydra. He just knew that if he was to ever repair his relationship with Kyari the hydra must be found, and he desperately wanted to repair it. Unlike some of the other acquaintances Marthel had introduced him to over their years of friendship, Kyari was level-headed, intelligent, and overall more understanding than even Sa'Raah could be. Yes, he and the Envoy of Dragonfire had both found the closest thing they had to a home by accident and had the same experience of being under the direct tutelage of their dragonlords, but he didn't feel the same level of connection with her as he did with Kyari.

"I'm not giving up," Brock said to nobody. Maybe he spoke to the construct that was currently serving as his mount. They were incredibly obedient machines, easily directed and more suited to be tools than guardians. He looked around for any trace of the hydra before choosing the direction that, to him, seemed the most logical.

0000000

"Did I ever tell you about how I met the ghost of Szadek?" Lisandra said, stroking Abby's feathery crest. Kyari, Marthel, and Vilhelm were each browsing books in the general area.

"How did you manage that?" Marthel asked.

"He presided over the events that turned me into a vampire." She tickled the abomination under its chin. "I'm surprised Ashleigh didn't mention it when she told you all about me."

"We didn't get much farther than 'psychic vampire working for the Dimir' before all of this distracted us." Marthel gestured to the mountains of books around him. A small pile was growing in the middle next to Lisandra, all supplemental material for the thesis she and Marthel had uncovered earlier in the day.

"Speaking of Ashleigh," Kyari began, "has anyone seen her? From what I know she doesn't like to be away from Abby for long."

"Odom says she's been doing fine here on Xerex," Marthel replied. He gave the silent Vilhelm a quick glance. Something about the other vampire in the room didn't sit right with him. "I haven't seen Odom in a bit, and Sverre ran off after translating a document for us. I never thought having someone who actually grew up on Dominaria and experienced the Mending could be so useful. I mean, sure, I knew that he'd come in handy, especially for learning about the way things were before, but he can actually just read some of these texts."

"Marthel," Kyari said with a giggle, "I think your nerd flag is showing."

"Oh, like you aren't excited?"

"Incredibly so, but I think we ought to wait until everyone is gathered together to reveal our huge discovery."

"You only know a summary of it, Kyari," Marthel responded. "When Sverre comes back from wherever he went, he can read it to us again and you'll see what I mean about it being fantastic.

Vilhelm continued to browse tower after tower of books in silence, collecting whatever information he could about this grand discovery. He needed to be the first to access whatever secrets lay in this maze in order to put his grand plan into motion.

000000

"Odom, I have amazing news," Sverre said. He stumbled over a small pile of books, righted himself, looked around to see if anyone else noticed his blunder, and dusted off his black cloak. "We found something fantastic. This confirms our theories about this maze. The center is where a grand invention, something potentially even greater than the Legacy of Urza, awaits."

Odom's shoulders slumped. "It's a piece of artifice, isn't it?"

"I can't believe you didn't consider the possibility, knowing what we know about the man," Sa'Raah sighed.

"Sa'Raah, you don't understand," Sverre chuckled. "Artifacts tend to explode around Odom. He wasn't always so...attractive."

"Ash likes me just fine, thank you, flaming eyebrow and all. Besides, you wouldn't look half this good if you were blown to pieces and put back together by a chaotic form of magic."

"Izzet vanity," Sverre said to Sa'Raah. "It infects the whole guild."

"I'm standing right here, you know." Odom put his hands on his hips.

"I know."

Both planeswalkers broke out into a fit of laughter so contagious Sa'Raah had no choice but to join in.

"But anyway, where's Ashleigh? We need to convene everybody so that we can go over this text we found," Sverre asked. "I know you're not that much of a ladies' man and she doesn't tend to share well, so she can't be far from here."

"Actually," Sa'Raah said, "Ashleigh is back that way. Rinok and Vilhelm cornered me after I...remembered something about my past. About my spark. She told us to go away while she talked to them. That was over an hour ago. I dropped off Abby with Lisandra and we've been wandering around waiting for her to finish whatever she's doing."

"So you left the basket case alone with the warmonger and the other vampire?"

"Hey. She's not a basket case, Sverre. You sound like Brock," Odom said.

Sa'Raah cut in, "The point is, Ashleigh looked particularly angry and we weren't about to test her temper. I was a little shaken, so rather than fighting her, I listened to her and left. I don't know what transpired, or if it's even finished. She'll find us when she's ready, though, right Odom?"  
Odom nodded, but Sverre interjected with "The last time you waited until she was ready, she was MIA for, what, three years? How is this any different?"

"The difference is, Sverre, we're confined to this plane and can't get out unless we all sit down, shut up, and work together. The sooner all of us realize that the sooner we can progress. It's mutually beneficial for everyone. Rhyne gets out of his cage, I get out of artificer hell, Sa'Raah gets back to amassing a dragon army, and everyone can get on with their lives." Odom crossed his arms. "I thought you would at least understand that. I thought you were our friend."

"I am your friend, which is why I'm worried about her. I don't trust Vilhelm or Rinok as far as I can throw them. I have this gut feeling Vilhelm is hiding something, and Rinok isn't being straightforward with us either," Sverre explained. "So we need to find Ashleigh, even though that's going to be harder than herding a hydra."

000000

"There you are, you stupid beast," Brock said, approaching the hydra. It was remarkably docile and probably extremely hungry. The bags of food that had been tied around its necks were entirely gone. "I hope you understand all the trouble you've caused me. Why can't you just be like this all the time. Are you domesticated or aren't you?"

Another voice that sounded suspiciously like Kyari told him that no hydra could be truly domesticated. He sighed, sidling up to the beast on the back of his spider construct mount.

"This thing has to have rope or something, spiders makes webs, don't they?" Brock said, examining the construct's back. Near the base of its abdomen was what appeared to be some sort of hook or locking mechanism. A moment's fiddling freed it and another few moments revealed lengths of thin, yet strong filament. One was tied around his waist in case he fell. He took another of the filaments in his right hand, braced himself, and jumped onto the back of the hydra. His arms and legs locked around its closest neck and the creature began to thrash and buck like a horse. It seemed to Brock as though the filament should snap, but by some miracle he was able to fasten it around the hydra's neck.

"Can you please calm down?" Brock asked the hydra. "I'm trying to take you home, to Kyari."

At the mention of Kyari's name, three of the hydra's heads turned to look at Brock.

"Okay. You recognize her name. Not as stupid as I thought," Brock muttered to himself. He continued louder, "Kyari's worried about you. I need to lead you home but to do that you need to calm down."

Through some more talking, Brock was able to calm the hydra enough to start the long and arduous task of leading it back through the maze. Having the spider construct to help increased their pace immensely, but it was still slow going. The hydra resisted some of their path choices, insisting on making its own.

"You're just a stubborn thing, aren't you?" Brock was sadly growing used to dealing with bullheaded creatures who refused to see the reason in his ways. He smirked. There had been a time in his youth when he too was just as stubborn. Living among the Soratami had taught him that stubbornness and other "human" qualities were something to be suppressed in favor of the greater harmony with their world and the Kami. They had their places, though, as he had discovered since leaving the monasteries of Tarkir. "I suppose it's not such a bad thing."


	69. Chapter 69

Planar Chaos

Chapter 25: A Kind of Understanding

Brock finally returned to Lisandra's lonely archives with Kyari's hydra in tow. The elf from Shandalar was waiting for him, tapping her foot in irritation which caused the end of her long, brown braid to swish like the tail of an angry cat.  
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Brock asked, dismounting the large spider construct that made his expedition possible.  
"Like what?" Kyari replied.  
"You look like my mo..." he trailed off, catching himself. "Like Tamiyo when she's disappointed." The Soratami planeswalker may have helped to take care of him, but she couldn't ever be considered a mother.  
"Just go." Kyari rolled her eyes.  
"You could thank me, at least," Brock said indignantly. He planted his feet squarely on the ground and stood there waiting for an apology or expression of gratitude.  
"Why?" Kyari barked. "You're the one who lost it in the first place. I didn't ask to get captured. It was your responsibility, after all, to take care of the hydra if anything happened to me. You _promised_. But I see just how seriously you take your promises. I see what care means to you."  
"I kept my promise, Kyari. I got it back for you. Why can't anything ever be simple with you?"  
"The world is not black and white, Brock," she said, brushing past him. The speed of her passing caused his yellow and blue robes to rustle. "It seems to me that all your mentors understood that, so why can't you?"  
How could he tell her? How could he explain the feelings he got about certain things, certain people? It was nothing so simple as being able to judge a man's soul. They were vague premonitions about things to come. Everything was so muddy that all he wanted was some clarity. What were these obfuscated catastrophes, was there a way he could avert them? Brock didn't know. He never really knew.  
He heaved a sigh. It was becoming more and more apparent that he would have to seek out Master Narset, his foster mother, or both. But would Tamiyo even want to see him after the way he'd treated her? What if she had too many children to have any time for him anymore? When he'd first planeswalked, he remembered she finally had an infant of her own and was expecting another. Her husband, Genku, had been so happy.  
Brock shook his head. He'd cross that bridge when he arrived. For now, he decided to wander through the archives in search of Marthel. He understood Kyari in a way Brock never really could. He might be able to help.  
After several minutes wandering, he heard the sound of uncontrollable sobbing. Worried that it might be Kyari or Sa'Raah, he rushed towards the noise only to stop dead in his tracks. The Voidcaller was sitting in what appeared to be a half-completed book fort, not unlike the ones small children would make in Ojutai's monasteries. The dragonlord had long been fascinated with this aspect of humanity. Dragons on Tarkir did not have anything resembling play, nor did they have a youth. Brock took note of the miniature spider automatons scattered around the fort. Seven littered the ground. The eighth was lifeless in the Voidcaller's shaking hands. Her focus seemed to be entirely on this one.  
"No," she gasped between sobs. "Come back. Please. I'm not bad. I didn't mean to..."  
Brock had never seen her so vulnerable, not even when her chest was split open. Part of him realized that if he wanted to avert untold suffering, this was his chance. They were alone, certainly nobody was anywhere close or they would have heard the sobbing. The other part of him, the part he typically tended to disregard, told him that violence might not be the way to prevent disaster. She was obviously upset over the broken spider in her hands, and could she really be upset over something so minuscule if she were truly evil?  
Well of course she could, Brock told himself. The Voidcaller was unpredictable, unstable, and always the wrong trigger away from destroying the world she happened to be on at the time. Whether she actually had that power or not had never occurred to him, and likely never would.  
The sobbing began to subside when Ashleigh realized she was being watched. Between sniffles, she managed to croak out "Are you here to kill me for breaking the spider? Even you have to admit that's overkill."  
Brock just blinked in confusion by way of a response.  
"I didn't mean to do it. A little bit of static, and it must have fried the little guy's circuits. I can't fix it. Can you?" She held out the spider to Brock, a pleading look on her face. From this angle she almost looked like a child, all big, green eyes and quivering lips.  
"I'm afraid none of us here are any good at artifice, except maybe Marthel. But he's not very good at anything in particular."  
"He's good at learning," Ashleigh replied, turning her gaze back to the spider. She stroked the gem implanted in its head. "He can learn to do anything. I'm stuck stealing other people's knowledge. What good is all this power if I can't use it to do anything useful?"  
"Tell me about it," Brock said, unaware the words had left his mouth.  
"You probably get it, right?" Ashleigh began. "You were raised with a completely different race, never fitting in or anything. You always knew you were different."  
Brock felt a twinge in his chest at the accuracy of her assessment.  
"And it's like, when I was just a random cultist, I at least belonged somewhere. But now, knowing what I know and doing what I can do, I can't really go anywhere. And the voices don't help. They just yell and scream and chatter and whisper all at once and it drives me insane. I don't want to be crazy. I want to be normal so I can go and do things with everyone else but I just can't without it pushing me out of the crazy tree, onto the crazy carriage, and over the crazy cliff. Do you know what it's like never being able to get a moment's peace and quiet? Of course not. You're a monk. I've tried all that meditation stuff and trust me, whatever happened to me when Maralen reversed the Great Aurora, it's permanent. No amount of deep breaths or chanting works. Abby kind of works, but I can't be with it all the time, because what about when I have to sleep? I'm not a vampire like Lissy or Vilhelm and I can't subsist on the dew of a single ginko leaf and the energy of the universe like you can. And then everyone thinks I'm bad because I get a little overexcited and forget about things like safety and private property and the value of sapient life."  
"See, that doesn't make people think you're evil. It just makes you evil," Brock replied.  
This caused Ashleigh to burst into tears again. "I know," she sobbed. "And I want to fix it but I can't."  
Did she really? Could Brock even trust this display? He searched his feelings and they hadn't changed. Untold destruction would come at the hands of the Voidcaller and her pet abomination. He needed to find a way to ensure that it never came to pass.  
"Why am I not surprised that you're making my girlfriend cry?"  
Brock turned to see Odom leaning against a tower of books behind him.  
"C'mon, man, I thought we'd sat down and talked about this."  
"Your judgment is clouded by emotion, Odom," Brock responded.  
"Oh, like yours isn't? You go all Johnny Storm and flame on whenever you get upset. The only person I've never seen you get hostile with is Kyari."  
"That's a blatant lie."  
"You're right. The whole library heard your little exchange earlier." Odom strode past Brock and knelt down in front of the book fort. "Let me see it, Ash."  
She reluctantly handed over the broken spider.  
"I'm not very good at artifice, but creating life forms is something I have experience in. Maybe I can apply those same principles to get this little guy working again." Odom scrutinized the limp metal joints and popped open the head to look inside. "Fair warning, I might explode again." This comment elicited a giggle from Ashleigh. After a few tweaks, the eight spiders whizzed back to life and Odom wiped a disproportionate amount of sweat from his brow for the amount of time that had passed. "For the record, both of you have no idea how stressful that was."  
Brock merely rolled his eyes and walked away. He still couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was being too harsh on the Voidcaller, though.

0000000

"Listen, Rhyne, you and I need to come to an understanding." Vilhelm crouched in front of the wild man's cage.  
"Why is that?" Rhyne absentmindedly picked at his fingernails, a favorite pastime of his when bored.  
"In order to continue on this expedition and have a shot of getting out of here, you need to come out of that cage. In order to do that, you need to prove you aren't dangerous. That means no more cannibalism talk."  
"So I can't kill and eat those delicious looking morsels out there?" He waggled his eyebrows and grinned menacingly at Lisandra and Sa'Raah. Both of them cringed visibly.  
"I want the dragon-girl dead too, as does Rinok, but now is not the best time. There is a time for your appetites to be satiated, but that isn't now. You need patience."  
Rhyne scoffed at the vampire. "Have you seen what patience has done to the wilds of Jund? I have many fond memories of that plane, and the irrevocable disruption of the food chain isn't something I'm happy with. There's not enough ferocity. You can't really achieve the levels of fitness that existed before."  
"And I'm sure all your women and wine and devouring of humanoid flesh is going to keep you fit as a fiddle. But we need these people right now. We need them so we can continue with the plan."  
"Never been a fan of plans. I let the chips fall where they may and if I'm infinitely rewarded, then so be it."  
Vilhelm pressed on the bridge of his nose. "I need you to work with us, here. I promise it'll be worth your while."  
Rhyne spit a piece of fingernail out of his mouth. "I've never eaten death-drinker before, so for your sake it had better be."


	70. Chapter 70

Planar Chaos

Chapter 26: Into the Center

"I'm not sure I believe him," Sa'Raah said, crossing her arms as the other planeswalkers stood around Rhyne's cage in a semicircle. Vilhelm and Rinok flanked the cage facing the rest of them as the male vampire and the warrior pleaded Rhyne's case.

"And why would that be?" Vilhelm purred. "Is it because he reminds you of your former self?"

"We leave my past out of this," Sa'Raah barked. She looked away from the wild planeswalker in the cage. It was impossible to deny the same wildness that had once defined her ruled Rhyne's mind. She understood it perfectly and knew just how dangerous and untrustworthy it made people. There were still those among the Dromoka who were reluctant to accept their dragonlord's adopted daughter because of the viciousness with which Sa'Raah once hunted the broods. Her mouth broke into a snarl and her eyes narrowed. Part of her wanted to let that wildness well up inside of her like dragon fire and lash out at Vilhelm. He'd known her before, and it was doubtless to her now that he'd hidden himself in an attempt to avoid the consequences of his cowardice.

But did she really want revenge on him? If it hadn't been for Vilhelm being afraid of that dragon, she would likely never have become a planeswalker, met her new mother, or found a cause so much bigger than herself that she could dedicate her entire life to it until the day she died. She recalled that back on Naya the Anima's prophecies were becoming darker and more incomprehensible.

Her eyes darted to Rinok. He, on the other hand, she could muster no sympathy for. He'd expressed in no uncertain terms the desire to kill her and sent her body to Sarkhan in tiny pieces all over some misguided man-crush. Whatever he was before, Sarkhan was different now and Rinok just couldn't accept that.

Wait. Sa'Raah's eyes snapped open. Was she jealous? The death and dismemberment didn't bring out the dragon fire in her belly, but Rinok's seeming obsession with her Sarkhan made her want to spew white hot flames.

Sa'Raah's entire internal monologue was playing out on her face with such clarity that it was hard for the other planeswalkers and various others present to ignore. She drifted to the back of the group to continue her thinking.

"Something about all three of them doesn't sit right with me," Brock said. He and Kyari stood at opposite ends of the semicircle. The same odd feelings he'd gotten about the Voidcaller and her abomination crowded to the front of his mind when faced with the trio before them. "We should just leave them here and get to the center so we can get out."

"Or feed them to Lisandra," Sverre muttered darkly. "Or Jormungandr. I'm sure I could summon him in here."

"There's no need for that kind of talk, dear," Oona whispered in his ear.

"Abby doesn't even like them," Ashleigh put in. Her eyes were still red from crying. The infant abomination squirmed in her arms, hissing at Rinok, Vilhelm, and Rhyne.

"Look, guys," Marthel cut in, stepping into the middle. "We'll need all of us to get into the center. Once we get there, find whatever's down there, and get off this plane, we can go our separate ways and do whatever we do best."

Only Brock, Nadia, and Kyari noticed Marthel's hand twitching towards his small, curved knife he always wore at his hip. The angel caught his eye and arched one dark brow. She sensed something simmering under her champion's surface, something she was afraid would burst forth at the most inopportune moment.

"If everyone is so concerned," Lisandra said, pushing past Marthel, "I'll determine if they're lying."

She shook the sleeves of her guild robes off her wrists, revealing the blue and black eyes of Phenax tattoed onto the back of her hands. She took a deep breath, raised her hands, and covered her own eyes with her palms. Truthfully she didn't need as much ceremony, nor did she need to look through the eyes of the god as long as she did, but it might put everyone more at ease.

No doubt about it, these three men were untrustworthy, but the assertion that they would cooperate until their unusual gaggle exited Xerex was sincere. At least for the time being.

The female vampire turned back to the other planeswalkers. "In my professional opinion, they're telling the truth."

"What kind of professional are you again?" Vilhelm prodded.

"An agent of the Dimir, handpicked by Mirko Vosk himself and chosen as a candidate to continue the line of psychic vampires by the ghost of none other than Szadek. I hate airing my credentials, can we move along? I've got books to organize before we depart." She flipped her dark hair over her shoulder and stalked back towards the towers of books. "I've no need to bring any with me, but if someone else should find this place I'd like to leave everything organized."

"Then why do you still have the thesis tucked into your sleeve?" Marthel asked.

"Because this," Lisandra took out the delicate book, "is our ticket out of here. There's got to be some cipher or something that will help us find the way down. A genius wouldn't just leave something this potentially earthshattering lying around if it didn't have multiple uses."

"Are you sure on that one, Lissy?" Ashleigh asked. "Remember that time we got stuck in a labyrinth on Theros for three days when you were trying to decipher a sign that just said 'Do Not Enter'?"

Lisandra sighed. "I'd appreciate not airing my moments of tunnel vision in front of the guests, Ash, dear."

"Dear?" Odom mouthed to Ashleigh.

She smirked playfully and mouthed back "Jealous?"

Odom crossed his arms, turned away, and pouted.

The female vampire rolled her eyes. "Odom you've nothing to worry about."

Rinok had been silent up to this point. "Can we at least let Rhyne out so we can make our preparations for leaving?"

"Fine," Lisandra said. "There's a latch hidden inside the third bar from the left on the top."

It didn't take Vilhelm long to find the latch and release Rhyne. The wild man crawled out of the cage and stood upright, cracking all his joints.

"Sounds like me in the morning before, well, this," Odom poked his stomach, causing a ripple to move throughout his entire abdomen.

"Okay," Marthel said, a strained smile on his face. "Everyone get your preparations done, we head out at first light."

"But there's no day or night here," Sverre pointed out.

"Then we leave when Ash wakes up."

Everyone turned to face Odom. Ashleigh was leaning heavily against him, snoring softly. Abby was snuggled in her arms, making the abomination equivalent of snoring noises as well.

"What?" Odom scanned the crowd and only saw confused expressions.

"That's normal?" Kyari asked. "She might want to see a doctor."

"In all honesty how much have any of us slept since entering this place?" Odom responded defensively.

"None," Lisandra said.

"Nope, not at all," Vilhelm agreed.

"He's got a point," Sverre said. "You guys are vampires. You don't have to sleep. The rest of them are mortal." He stifled a yawn. "And even though I'm still gorgeous at over 200, this kind of lifestyle does take its toll."

"Alright. Everyone sleeps." Brock covered his own mouth to hide a yawn. "I'll keep first watch."


	71. Chapter 71

**AN: I know we've spent a long time just hanging out on this library in the middle of a plane that doesn't really have much description aside from the Escherian landscaping, but I promise I'm going to move this plot along. :)**

Planar Chaos

Chapter 27: Now They're Really Leaving I Promise.

"Okay," Marthel said, sitting astride one of the necks of Kyari's hydra, "is everyone sure they're ready this time? No more bouts of narcolepsy or sudden desires for human flesh? Looking at you, Ash and Rhyne."

Ashleigh blushed from her position on the back of Maelstrom Wanderer. Sverre and Lisandra sat on either side of her passing Abby back and forth between them. Oona, as always, hid herself in the hood of Sverre's black cloak. Odom stood further up the elemental, hanging on to the barky protrusions that almost resembled antlers.

Rhyne, on the other hand, showed no signs of remorse for his attempt to eat Brock during first watch the night before. Marthel had woken up to his friend's cries of pain as he attempted to fight off the wild planeswalker with one broken arm. Said arm was now in a sling and slowly mending. It would be fully healed in a few hours. It was for these reasons Rinok and Vilhelm had seen it in everyone's best interests to tie Rhyne to the back of the spider construct Vilhelm had dominated. The warrior and the male vampire sat on either side of Rhyne as added insurance in case the ropes were to mysteriously break or catch fire.

"Let's just get a move on," Brock said from the neck to Marthel's left. Kyari and Sa'Raah sat on the necks to their right. Both women were fidgeting and anxious to get moving after the previous evening.

"Nadia, if you'll do the honors?" Marthel gestured to his angelic companion.

"I'd rather not," she responded sulkily. "Marthel it's silly."

"Please," he begged, clasping his hands beneath his chin.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine." Nadia took a running leap off of the ledge and jumped into the air, unfurling her wings and crying out dramatically "Into the great beyond!"

"The great beyond!" echoed Marthel, Odom, Ashleigh, Sa'Raah, Sverre, and Lisandra.

THREE DAYS LATER

"How can we be lost?" Vilhelm called over to Lisandra. "This is the right way, isn't it?"

"As far as I know, we were going the right way, but now it seems as though the maze is tricking us."

"It's a _plane_ ," Vilhelm howled. "There's no _consciousness_ here to trick us!"

"You underestimate the power of the old walkers, Vilhelm," Sverre said sagely.

"Oh pleas," Rinok chimed in, "you had your power for all of five minutes and then it got taken away."

Sverre's hand moved to his wrist, ready to pull up his chainmail sleeve and summon Jormungandr right underneath Vilhelm's spider.

"Guys," Kyari groaned, "can we please stop fighting. It won't get us anywhere."

"Kyari's right," Brock said. "Violence isn't the answer here."

"Oh, you're one to talk about violence," Ashleigh countered. "Need I remind you that you cracked my chest cavity open and were about to stomp on my still-beating heart?"

"You can't prove that," Brock said.

"But we can," Vilhelm and Lisandra said in unison.

"Couldn't just be vampires or psychics, could it," Brock mumbled. "It had to be _psychic vampires."_

"I'm somewhat psychic and not a vampire," Ashleigh said, raising her hand.

"Nobody asked you," Rinok sighed.

"Rinok, just do us all a favor and go back to being quiet," Sa'Raah growled.

"Why don't you make me?" Rinok responded, trying to egg her into a fight.

"Let me out of these ropes and I'll show you all what a real fight is," Rhyne said around his gag.

"If everyone doesn't shut up right now I will turn this elemental around," Odom declared, crossing his arms.

Nadia glanced over at Marthel. She saw the redness underneath his dark skin. The constant bickering was starting to get to him. This harmonious project, this grand adventure that was supposed to give everyone a new understanding of the multiverse and themselves, hadn't started as planned and he'd grown to accept that. But now it was at the risk of imploding once again when their goal was so close. His left eye started to twitch, but he kept the smile on his face as he stared straight ahead. His hands were folded in a seemingly calm position, but the veins stood out and they were shaking slightly. Nadia feared that if he were to part them, there would be bloody spots where his fingernails dug into the skin.\

Ever since the Rise From Hell, Marthel had been extended an open invitation to every revel held by the Rakdos guild. This was an invitation he'd only ever accepted when he desperately needed to blow off steam. Nadia had the feeling that once they made it out of the maze Marthel would disappear to one of the Carnariums for a few days before returning to his apartment roaring drunk and in the company of the Rakdos's Blood Witch, Exava. She disliked the woman, certainly, but only for what she brought out in Nadia's chosen champion. He tilted too far into the dark whenever in her company and it would take Nadia days, sometimes weeks, to draw him back into the light and re-balance his fragile nature.

"Guys, this isn't getting us anywhere," Kyari said, her voice far louder than usual. Nobody present save Marthel and Brock had ever heard the elf shout, but this was as close as she came in such mixed company. "Everyone needs to just shut up before we get ourselves more lost. It's not like there are maps for this place anyway. We're going based on a hidden cipher in a book written by a madman or a genius. I'm still not sure which he is. But that's what we've got to go on, so let's give Lisandra a few minutes to figure out where we went wrong."

"Let me see," Sverre leaned over Lisandra's shoulder.

"I can read it just fine," Lisandra hissed.

"I'm familiar with the language too," Sverre said. "I can be of some help."

"I'm not sure how you could be. This doesn't make any sense. If I follow the standard cipher that's etched into this back cover here, it says 'rainbows form a loop, not a bridge,' and that's completely different from the instructions previous paragraphs gave us." Lisandra placed the frustrating book delicately in her lap.

"How familiar are you with old Dominarian turns of phrase? Because that's an old saying that means chasing after the fantastical is futile," Sverre said.

"So this entire text is a big joke?" Lisandra's eyes grew wide.

"Not necessarily. See, fantastical in this case might also mean ideal or perfection."

"And we've been looking for clues that fit our ideal picture of Urza..." Lisandra said softly. Then louder, "We don't need to do that, we just need to follow our guts and trust our intuition."

"So what way is your intuition telling you?" Sverre asked.

Odom interrupted them. "Mine says go up."

"I..." Lisandra searched her gut feelings, something she hadn't done in a while. "I have to agree. We go up."

They began their slow, careful ascent in single file. Maelstrom Wanderer, followed by the spider construct, and Kyari's hydra bringing up the rear in case of mutiny from the group in the middle. The dull gray of Xerex soon gave way to shining silver and pearls. They were headed in the right direction, they could all feel it. Even Marthel's spirits began to rise.

"Stop, we need to go left," Brock said.

"My gut's saying right," Sa'Raah said.

"Mine's with Sa'Raah's," Rinok said.

Ashleigh nodded in agreement.

Everyone turned to look at Brock.

"I don't know why, but something is telling me that if we go right that we'll regret it, but going left is the right way to reach our goal."

"So do we split up?" Vilhelm suggested.

"That's a negative," Odom said. "We stay together or we don't make any progress."

"We vote on it," Kyari said. "Those in favor of going left?"

Brock raised his hand. Abby raised a tentacle, but they discounted its vote being that they thought it was too young to understand what was happening.

"Those in favor of right?"

Everyone else's hands went up.

"Right it is," Kyari declared. Their convoy turned to the right and began trekking deeper into the shimmery grotto of inner Xerex. A faint music seemed to dance through the air and what seemed like natural light filtered down from above. A massive crystal floated above their heads giving off that light. It was easily bigger than Maelstrom Wanderer at its full size, likely larger than several of the elemental stacked together.

"It's gotta be in there, right?" Sverre asked.

"No doubt about it," Odom agreed.

"Abby's getting really nervous, guys," Ashleigh said. The infant abomination was squirming and making squawking noises, hiding its eyes from the light. "I've never seen it this restless."

Abby wanted Mommy and Daddy to realize that they were all in grave danger and should leave immediately, before whatever was sleeping nearby woke up. Abby's eyes met Brock's. He understood why Abby was so scared. He'd felt what Abby had felt. Abby reached out a tentacle in Brock's direction, squawking for him to tell Mommy and Daddy what was about to happen.

Brock felt something when the abomination looked into his eyes. Something was pushing on the edges of his mind, and it was scared and pleading.

"We have to leave." Brock said. "NOW."

It was too late. As soon as the words left his mouth, almost a dozen wurm constructs erupted from various points in the walls surrounding the crystal sun. The wickedly sharp edges of their maws glinted in the crystal's light.

"Okay, Rinok, time to prove yourself," Odom said. "You're a master tactician, right?"

Rinok simply stared at the constructs, his face expressionless. At his disposal he counted three mind mages, himself an accomplished warmage, a beast- and a dragonmaster, a sadistic cannibal, a mad scientist, a monk with a talent for fire, a jack of all trades, a very long-lived necromancer, an angel, a faerie queen, an elemental, a hydra, and a mechanical spider.

"Telepaths in the back, keep us connected. If anyone is proficient with fire or lightning, they're our front lines. Summoners in the middle to bring us whatever aid you can, if summoning anything to this plane is even possible." Rinok jumped down onto the platform, drawing his greatsword in one fluid motion. "Melee fighters, to me."

He was soon flanked by Nadia and Marthel.

"This is all we've got, huh?" Rinok asked.

Marthel brandished his twin swords, Brutality and Elegance. "Seems so."

"Wait, where do I fit in all this? I'm none of those things," Odom asked.

"Just stick with the elemental, and heal us when necessary. Your chaotic life magic can do that much can't it?" Rinok barked.

"No promises," Odom mumbled.

Ashleigh deposited Abby in Odom's arms. "I'll be right back, I promise." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before sliding down Maelstrom Wanderer's side to join Brock and Rhyne in the contingent of element-slingers. Sverre quickly partnered up with Kyari and Sa'Raah while Lisandra and Vilhelm remained back with Odom.

"Here's the plan," Lisandra said, "I'm going to see about maintaining some sort of order here, read when people's weaknesses are being exploited. Can you try and do whatever you did to my spider to those things?" She directed Vilhelm's attention to the wurms.

"I can certainly try, but they might be harder to subdue." If a few of them died here he wasn't that concerned. It just made his job that much easier later on.

"Everyone ready?" Rinok shouted. "We move in when they're within two-hundred yards."

It was a tense few seconds before the wurms made it to Rinok's point of reference. "Forward!" he shouted, rushing in. The hot metallic wind being belched from the wurm constructs raked through his lungs and whistled past his ears. This was living. This was battle.

Sverre slammed his palm into the ground, pulling up his sleeve as he did so. "Alright, big guy, time to have some fun." The tattoo on his arm began to glow with a dark aura. He began to rise from the ground, a wurm as big around as the world tree of Helheim under his feet. The fetid smell of dead flesh filled the air, but to Sverre it was sweet nectar. His bound companion, Jormungandr, the world serpent, let out an ear shattering roar.

Kyari hadn't left the back of her hydra. "Okay, Primey, let's see what you can really do." She urged it forward.

Sa'Raah was having more than a little trouble reaching out to find a creature to come to her aid. She didn't have any shortcuts like Sverre had been able to create. Breaking through the barrier around Xerex to seek out her mother or another dragon took more effort than she'd realized. Her breath came quick and ragged, sweat dripping down the back of her neck even though it was cool.

"Vilhelm, that one's headed for Sa'Raah, shut it down," Lisandra said. She held on to Maelstrom Wanderer's barky bits at the elemental lurched forward under Odom's command to cover Sa'Raah while Vilhelm set to work on the mechanical wurm.

"Any time would be great, dude," Odom shouted as the wurm slammed into Maelstrom Wanderer's side, causing the elemental to let out a bellow and counterattack viciously. Molten goo poured out of the elemental's stomach, some of it splattering Sa'Raah.

"What is this?"

"What he eats," Odom responded.

"It's..." Sa'Raah felt the power coursing through her hands. "It's mana?!"

"Duh!"

She scooped some up in her arms and slung it towards Ashleigh, Brock, and Rhyne. Only Brock was having success creating a sustained flame, relying on the ghostfire technique. "Use this, it'll make it easier!"

Sa'Raah sunk her hands into the growing pool of mana and dug deep inside herself for the power she needed to reach across the planes and bring her dragons. There was one species she'd met in her travels that would attack these constructs with gusto: the Skyship Stalkers of Kaladesh.

"Brothers and sisters of the wing," she began, "the Envoy implores you to grant your assistance in this, my time of need."

A pair of the giant, red beasts erupted from the pool of mana. Sa'Raah caught one of their tails and pulled herself up behind the wings.

"Envoy we are here," they said in draconic. "What would you have us do?"

"These wurms attacked us," Sa'Raah explained. "My friends and I must defeat them."

The dragons salivated when their eyes found the wurms. "We come to your aid with pleasure."

Ashleigh and Rhyne dug their hands into the mana pouring from Maelstrom Wanderer's belly as Odom worked to close the wound. The elemental was regenerating quickly, but if they wanted to be able to run Odom's help was required. Bright red blazes sprang from Rhyne's hands. He let out a shrill cackle and ran headlong into the fray, barreling past Rinok's coordinated assault on one of the wurms and jumping into another's gaping maw. Ashleigh reached into the minds of everyone around her and cherry-picked her favorite destruction spells. Lighting arced from her fingertips, jumping between nearby wurms.

Kyari's hydra had entangled a wurm in its many necks. Several of the heads were biting into the metal body, ripping it to pieces. She surveyed the battlefield. A couple of the wurms appeared to have been paralyzed by lightning, and another few bore signs of having been melted by fire. Sa'Raah soared through the air on dragonback, her mount and its companion raking their claws across the angered wurms. Rinok, Marthel, and Nadia were working together and Lisandra stood back with Vilhelm keeping tabs on the situation. Kyari felt Lisandra's mental check ins, and they were oddly comforting. Sverre rode around on the back of Jormungandr in a similar manner to Kyari riding on her hydra.

Then she saw something that chilled her to the bone. More wurms came pouring out of the walls. She looked to Rinok. He'd seen them too and judging by the look on his face knew they'd never be able to make it against so many.

"Retreat!" came the order from Rinok. "Fall back!"

Rinok, Marthel, and Nadia rushed back towards a now healed Maelstrom Wanderer.

"Climb on up, guys," Odom said. He was dripping with glowing goo. "Sverre, Ash, Brock, come on!"

Everyone fell back to the elemental, abandoning the spider. Kyari and Sa'Raah were forced to unsummon their companions, sending them back to their planes of origin.

"But what if he gets lost," Kyari protested before Sverre forcibly unsummoned her hydra.

"It'll be fine, Kyari. It's going back to Shandalar, back to its home," Brock put an arm around her.

"We're missing Rhyne," Rinok said.

"You sound upset," Vilhelm said as Maelstrom Wanderer began to move, lumbering away from the growing army of wurms.

"He's not missing," Odom said, hauling Rhyne up and over the side of the elemental.

"That was so much fun," Rhyne said. "Why'd we stop?"

Everyone broke into laughter.

Abby let out an indignant squawk.

"I know, sweetie, I know. You tried to warn us," Ashleigh cooed.

"So... we go the other way?" Sa'Raah suggested.

"You mean the way I wanted us to go the first time?" Brock asked, crossing his arms.

"What do you want us to say, man?" Odom said. "That you were right and the rest of us were wrong?"

"Of course..." Lisandra had returned to poring over the thesis. "After that idiom, it says we shouldn't get distracted by shiny things."

"Isn't anybody worried those things are going to chase us?" Sverre said.

"They shouldn't," Marthel responded. "The thing about constructs is that they're typically built with a specific purpose. Those should just leave us alone now that we're out of the bounds of that giant crystal thing."

"Do you suppose that was the heart of this plane?" Ashleigh asked.

"It's possible, but we need to go deeper than the heart to get to what Urza's left here for us." Marthel smiled, and this time it was a genuine one. Everyone had actually worked together for a common goal rather than forming factions and trying to kill each other. He sincerely hoped this kind of thing kept happening.


	72. Chapter 72

**AN: So we learned in the previous chapter that I can't write combat very well. I apologize for that and for the lack of an update last week. Sadly real life got in the way and fanfic doesn't pay the bills. I promise two updates this week to make up for it, k?**

Planar Chaos

Chapter 28: Heart of Hearts

Marthel was right. The wurm constructs abandoned their pursuit after Maelstrom Wanderer cleared the perimeter of the crystal sun.

"That was close," Lisandra sighed.

"Yeah," Odom said, hanging off the side of Maelstrom Wanderer and tending to the elemental's wounds. He coated the area where his dear friend's wound had been with his own body's ooze. "A little too close. Vilhelm where were you back there?"

"What do you mean?" Lisandra said. "He was right next to me."

"I know he was there physically, but," Odom hauled himself up, allowing the extra arms to drip away into a pool of green ooze at his feet. "He wasn't exactly mentally present."

"Sometimes artifact creatures are harder to read, okay?" Vilhelm said defensively.

"It shouldn't be a problem," Sa'Raah said, striding forward. "I remember you. You came to us from Esper to try and convert the Cylian elves to whatever lifeless existence those people who replace their bodies with metal lead."

A shiver ran down Kyari's spine as she remembered the world she and her hydra had visited during her very first planeswalk. The mechanical chicken carcasses, a type of creature she had no name for and had never encountered on any other plane, came to the forefront of her mind whenever anyone mentioned Esper. She'd been there and knew that no such beings existed either before or after it merged with the rest of Alara, but the idea of a forced conversion from living being to metal husk terrified her to the core. She felt Brock's arm tighten around her shoulders but shrugged him off.

"That doesn't mean that it'll be easy overriding something's programming, especially if it was constructed pre-Mending like those might be." Vilhelm's eyes flicked to Rinok, who saw a quick flash of desperation.

"Guys," Rinok cut in, "we survived and nobody had any injuries. Everything should be fine. Let's just keep going."

"Well, there could be injuries if you want…" Rhyne winked suggestively at Sa'Raah and Lisandra. "Maybe even, dare I say it, a few little fatalities?"

"Ugh," Kyari groaned. "Can we not?"

"Seriously, Rhyne, it's getting a little… creepy," Brock said.

Through the entire exchange Marthel sat to the side, away from the core of the group. The set of his jaw kept the others away from him, except for Nadia and Sverre.

"Marthel, what's wrong?" Sverre said. From the outside, the chaotic planeswalker appeared to be meditating, except for his furrowed brow. His left eye twitched and he bared his teeth.

"Minutes ago we were working together in perfect harmony, fighting a common enemy and working towards a common goal in sweet synchronicity. Now it devolves into bickering."

Sverre sighed. "Sometimes people aren't meant to work together. I know you had this grand vision, Marthel, I do, but maybe it won't come together as seamlessly as you'd hoped."

"It doesn't seem to be coming together at all," Marthel snapped. "I know once we get to the center the fighting will start again. Brock wants to hide Urza's gift to us, Sa'Raah and Odom have entered into some bargain with Niv Mizzet, don't think for a second I don't know about that, Rinok's out for blood and I've never been a huge fan of weapons of mass destruction. They're far too impersonal."

"Yes," Nadia agreed. "You've been one to prefer blood on your hands literally as opposed to metaphorically. Several incidents come to mind after we returned to Tarkir to find it entirely changed."

"Surrak, my Khan, my friend, didn't even remember me. I had to start from scratch," Marthel chuckled darkly. "They took me before Atarka, you know, to see if I was good enough to stay in the clan. She didn't attack, didn't growl or anything. She just looked at me and actually spoke, a rare occurrence for something so ferocious. And more to the point, I _understood_ her. I felt that ferocity deep inside of me and it resonated with her. I suppose that's a reason I consider her my mother."

"I doubt Oona would recognize Lorwyn if she went back," Sverre said. He delicately scooped his sleeping wife out of his hood and cradled her in his hands. "I doubt anyone would recognize me if I went back to my home either."

"You're from Dominaria, right? Like Vess?" Marthel asked.

"Yes, but I'm nothing compared to Her Ladyship. The countess has achieved permanent immortality through her own means. Mine is more conditional. Come to Helheim during a Ragnarok sometime and you'll see what I mean. That said, I know the old me died when I left. I was just a simple wizard with simple wizard powers, but in planeswalking I found something grand. I gained the ability to raise the dead, which is how Jormungandr is able to avoid the cycles of Helheim. I found something so rare and precious that I've committed countless acts of murder and desecration to keep her safe."

"A big softie is what you became," Marthel chuckled.

"Surely in all your travels you've found someone who makes you want to tear down empires and explode stars," Sverre retorted.

"Not really. There have been people, men, women, an aetherborn or two, which is an interesting sensation, let me tell you, but incredibly short-lived and resulted in a fair amount of heartbreak. I have this on-again-off-again thing with Exava sometimes, but it always ruffles Nadia's feathers when I bring her home."

Nadia gave Marthel a look that could have killed a man if she were still on Bant with the power of her sisters to draw on. "Do not take it as petty jealousy, Jace Marthel. You recall what happened to that warrior who crossed you."

"He said I didn't belong, I told him the Cult of Rakdos sent its regards." Marthel smiled maliciously, flicking his finger against his knife.

"Woah." Sverre felt himself start to lean away from the dark skinned walker, but stopped himself.

"As you know, Sverre, my magic tends to shift with my emotional state, and my emotional state is also influenced by the magic I use. If I get caught in a cycle, Nadia tends to be the one to snap me out of it."

The angel nodded. "If anything happens, I'm your last line of defense."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because we're friends, aren't we?" Marthel asked.

"I suppose we are," Sverre replied.

Marthel sighed and looked off to the side. "Just look at them, how can they be so insane and so cute?"

Sverre followed his line of vision to where Odom lay with his head in Ashleigh's lap, their abomination of a child/pet curled up on his chest. Ashleigh was absentmindedly playing with Odom's hair as they talked about some topic or another.

"I guess," Sverre said, "that their insanity works together rather than against each other. We've all got our hangups and neuroses, Marthel. We just need to surround ourselves with people who complement them rather than clash."

"I wanted to learn more about planeswalkers. I guess I got my wish." Marthel looked at the darkening expanse of Xerex's pathways. The labyrinth sprawled away in every direction.

"Hey, what's that up there?" Sa'Raah peered into the distance. What appeared to be a simple pentagonal podium jutted up from the gray pathway, surrounded by five obelisks hewn from the same material as everything else around them. Each obelisk was marked with a different symbol, a fireball, a raindrop, a tree, a sun, and a skull.

Marthel jumped up, grabbed Lisandra by her hood, and towed her along behind him towards Maelstrom Wanderer's head.

"Is this it? Did we finally find it?" he frantically asked.

"I don't know," Lisandra replied. "Sverre, can you help translate?"

Without coming to the front of the elemental, without more than a glance away from the sleeping form of his fairy wife, Sverre answered their question. "We're here. This is the Heart of Hearts."

 **AN: Ah typos. This is why I shouldn't watch anime and write. I get my plot points jumbled and mess up similar sounding names.**


	73. Chapter 73

Planar Chaos

One Shots: The Halloween Episode/A Pirate's Life for Me

"So where are you and Kyari going on your latest adventure?" Ashleigh asked from her position lounging on the bed she shared with Odom in his apartment on Ravnica.

"We are going to Alara to study the sea life off the coast of Jhess, in what was once Bant. We've managed to get a good grasp on how the Conflux has affected land and airborn creatures, but the seas still hold their mysteries." Odom examined a few instruments kept on his dresser before tossing them into a satchel. "Even though Bant has become embroiled in chaos since the Conflux, Jhess still has the most impressive fleet of ships in the whole plane. I'm sure we can find a ship to hire that can take us towards deep water."

"How long are you going to be gone?"

"A few months, maybe? Sea voyages take a while."

Ashleigh flopped back on the bed with her arms behind her head. "I've never been to Alara. You've told me so much about it and how you met Maelstrom there."

Odom sighed. "Is this your way of asking if you can go with me?"

"Only if you want me to go with you."

"I really don't see a problem. I'll get in touch with Kyari and ask her how she feels about it."

00000

"What do you mean you're going on an extended trip to Alara with Odom and his psychotic girlfriend?" Brock threw his hands in the air, gesticulating wildly as he stomped around Kyari's humble treehouse on Shandalar. Her hydra grumbled outside, one head peering through the window to give the monk dirty looks whenever he glanced its way. "Kyari do you have any idea just what kind of person she is?"

"Honestly no. I've never met her before." Kyari leaned against a wall and watched Brock parade his bare feet all over her bedroll. She'd have to wash it again later.

"Well she's nuts. Completely crazy. A total fruitbat. She's violent, destructive, and dangerous. I won't allow you being around her."

That made Kyari cross. "With all due respect, Brock, you don't 'allow' me to do anything. We aren't official, and even if we were, you don't get to allow me to do anything. I can take care of myself."

"Can you when all your own spells are turned against you?"

Kyari's eyes flew open. So that's what the Voidcaller did. Whenever Odom spoke of his not-quite-girlfriend, he described her abilities as a nearly perfect counter to his own. While that might be an issue for someone specializing in the ability to copy and shapeshift, Kyari's own abilities had been honed on the mana-rich plane of Shandalar since before her spark ignited. Most creatures inhabiting her home could perform some magic, and the long lifespan of an elf allowed for plenty of time to master any inborn abilities as well as learn several others.

"Brock, I promise you I'll be fine. Now I've got to get my things packed and meet Odom and Ashleigh at the main port of Jhess. They've apparently found us a ship that will go pretty much anywhere for the right price." Kyari crossed the treehouse and opened the door, gesturing for her friend to leave.

"I just worry about you, okay? You're stubborn and far too trusting." Brock began his climb down the rope ladder.

"And you're paranoid." Kyari shut the door and began packing her things.

0000000

"This is fantastic!" Ashleigh hung from one of the many ropes crisscrossing their vessel. Instead of her typical wine colored dress, for the expedition she'd acquired a purple brocade coat lined with navy cord, some sensible black boots, breeches, and a lacy frock. The look was completed with a hat formerly belonging to one of the sailors. Kyari was beginning to suspect by the look of them that her study buddy had booked a pirate ship for their voyage. Even so, the sun felt good and the salt breeze helped to settle her stomach. Elves weren't known for their sea legs.

"Ash, get down from there," Odom called, stifling a chuckle. "I don't think our hosts would appreciate you cavorting around their ship."

"But I want to be a pirate! Just for one day, okay?"

Odom sighed. "Fine. You can be a pirate for one day, but after that you're a serious researcher."

"Yay!" Ashleigh swung down, snatched a cutlass out of one of the crew's scabbards, and leapt onto the prow of the ship, striking a pose with her sword out in front of her pointing to the horizon. "Our heading is east by northeast, Mr. Gibbs, to the deepest part of the ocean!"

A pirate who Kyari could only assume was the eponymous Mr. Gibbs sidled up to Odom. "She knows she's facing south, right?"

"Possibly?" Odom responded. "I don't know. Just stick with the plan and humor her. She's never been on a boat before."

"Neither has the pointy eared one, of that I'm certain." Mr. Gibbs glanced over to Kyari. "If you need anything to help with the seasickness, just go down to the galley. Our cook whips up a decent potion that'll settle the stomach and steady the legs. It's made of rum, lemons, some sugar, and water."

"I don't think being drunk is going to help me," Kyari sighed.

"It helps me," Mr. Gibbs said before wandering off to the stern of the ship with a wobbling swagger.

"I'm surprised Brock and Marthel didn't want to come with you, Kyari," Odom said.

"I think Marthel has been a bit busy as of late, and Brock… We had an argument about me coming. You know he doesn't really like your girlfriend much."

"They had one bad experience together on Pyrulea and now he's made it his life's mission to destroy her, or so she tells me."

"Guys, I mean, me heartes," Ashleigh interrupted them, "we're ready to shove off."

"This pirate lingo isn't really your thing, dear."

"Any more talk like that, Mr. Odom, and I'll make you walk the plank then throw you in the brig!" Ashleigh beamed.

"You can't do that, though, you aren't the captain."

"I think you'll find that I am, honey."

"When did this happen?"

Kyari gave them a wry smile. "You're the one who told them to humor her."

0000000

Three days of Ashleigh playing pirate captain was starting to interfere with Odom and Kyari's mission. However, on the third day they discovered something of great importance. The found a stowaway.

"We don't take kindly to trespassers on our ship," one of the pirates said to the man hiding behind barrels of cargo. "Especially not the kind who show up in their dressing gowns like this is some floating inn."

"Sir, I have to inform you that there's a passenger on this ship that's incredibly dangerous. You must listen to me or I'm certain you'll all die," the stowaway replied.

"Summon Mr. Gibbs and the Captain to the main deck. They'll know what to do."

One of the group of pirates hastily made his way topside. Mr Gibbs was standing next to the captain, who was staring through a spyglass into the distance.

"Mr. Gibbs, Captain, ma'am, we've discovered a stowaway in the cargo hold. Real peaky fellow wearing a bathrobe."

The captain put down her spyglass and adjusted her hat, which had belonged to the pirate addressing her days earlier. "Bring him up here, you scurvy dog."

"Mr. Gibbs and the rest seem genuinely enjoying letting her pretend to be their captain," Kyari said to Odom. They stood near the bow with fishing poles assembled in a row, all dropped to different depths. A bucket full of mundane fish without any abnormalities sat off to the left and would be cooked for dinner that night.

"I think he sees in her the same kind of person I do. She's reckless and selfish and a little off her rocker, but she's not a bad person. She just wants to have fun, whatever that is at the time." Odom leaned against the railing, his mismatched eyes focused on Ashleigh. "She could probably stay here, join this crew, and really like it. But for whatever reason she attached herself to me and follows me around."

"Be honest. How do you really feel about her?"

"I miss her when she's gone. Lots of things get inconvenient when you have to keep manifesting extra pairs of hands."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. But the truth is I really don't. Not yet, anyway. She's great company and we always have fun, no matter what we're doing. I think my life would be pretty boring without her in it."

"So it's true," Kyari smiled smugly.

"What is?" Odom asked.

"You've actually still got a heart inside that gooey chest of yours."

Odom reached into his chest and pulled out the pulsing organ through the ooze. "Well yeah I still have one. I'd have some serious issues if I didn't."

"By the gods of Theros, Odom put that away!" Kyari bristled like a frightened cat.

"Okay, fine." Odom returned his heart to its proper position.

The pirates dragged their prisoner from the cargo hold, throwing him down before Ashleigh and Mr. Gibbs. The noonday sun glinted off his bald head. His yellow and blue robes were wrinkled, and there were bags under his dark eyes.

"Brock!" Kyari and Ashleigh exclaimed at the same moment.

"You know this man?" Mr. Gibbs asked, waiting for one of the women to answer.

"He's something of an enemy of mine," Ashleigh said. "Well, at least he thinks he is."

"He's something of a friend of mine," Kyari said sheepishly. She walked up to where the two pirates had Brock pinned to the deck. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"I couldn't let you be with her all alone," Brock said.

"Afraid I'm gonna snatch her away from you?" Ashleigh said suggestively. She winked at Kyari.

"No. You kill everything you touch, doom everyone you meet," Brock barked.

"Oi!" The pirate on Brock's left tweaked his shoulder further. "That's no way to talk to our captain!"

"You best be getting some manners, Mr. Brock," Mr. Gibbs hissed. "What'll we do, Captain? Throw him in the brig? Make him walk the plank and swim back to Jhess? Use him as bait for your friends' fishing trip?"

"We are not fishing," Kyari corrected him. "We're collecting samples to determine how the Conflux affected wildlife."

"Looks like fishing to me," Mr. Gibbs shrugged.

"I think," Ashleigh said, "that we need to give Mr. Brock a place on the crew. How does peeling potatoes in the galley for the remainder of the voyage sound?"

"He'll need new clothes," one pirate said.

"I'm sure we can find him something," Ashleigh replied, smiling maliciously.

For the remainder of the voyage, Brock would be wearing ill-fitting breeches, boots that were a size too large, and a shirt that exposed his stomach if he ever raised his arms. He didn't perform that motion much, being kept in the galley under the watchful eye of the cook, an imposing man with a peg leg and a large carving knife in place of a hand.

"I don't believe this," Brock mumbled to himself. "I'm a monk of the Ojutai, a disciple of Keral Keep, the protector of the multiverse, and I'm stuck on a boat peeling potatoes."

"What was that?" the cook barked.

"Oh, um, I just wanted my clothes back is all."

"Not up to regulations for kitchen duty. Closed toed shoes at all times, no flowy sleeves, they get in the food, and do I need to tell you why you should wear pants?"

"If he's having such a bad time," Odom said to Kyari, "why doesn't he planeswalk out of here?"

"And risk exposing the secret?" Kyari replied, shocked by the suggestion. "He'd never ever allow anyone who isn't a planeswalker to know other worlds exist."

"There's a young man a long time ago he really wouldn't have gotten along with. I never met him myself, but Marthel's told me stories about a planeswalker named Venser who wanted to find a way for everyone to travel the planes. Sverre even ran into him on one occasion, before the fall of Mirrodin."

"We all have a choice to make with our secret, Odom," Kyari said. "Maintain order or work for equality. So far most of us have decided maintaining order is the proper response. Even you and Ashleigh. We've only revealed ourselves to each other after something comes up that could only be explained by planeswalking."

"I guess you're right," Odom sighed, running a hand through his hair. He turned back to the fishing poles. "I hope we catch something. I don't want this voyage to be fruitless."

"At least we've caught a lot of food. This will more than pay for anything leftover from the expenses." Kyari reeled in a line only to find a single fish head attached to the hook. "Something ate this one. Something big."

"What makes you say that?"

She indicated a large tooth caught in part of the fish's exposed spinal cord.

"Hm, what class of beast do you think this is?"

"Possibly infant leviathan, maybe mature shark. I don't really know what manner of sea creatures exist on Alara."

"Now that you mention it," Odom said, scratching his head, "I really don't know either."

Another line went taut. Odom grabbed the rod and started reeling as fast as he could. The enchanted fishing line wouldn't break, of that he was certain, but that wouldn't stop the rod being ripped from his hands. "Kyari, give me a hand."

The elf grabbed the fishing rod along with Odom and heaved. Whatever was on the other end of the line heaved back.

"I can hold this for now, grab Ash and Brock and tell them to help us," Odom said through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure?" Kyari said, loosening her grip. Odom was pulled into the railing with a squishy thud.

"No, I'm not. Dammit. We need those two."

"They'll never work together, you know that," Kyari growled, locking her muscles in place to fight the giant fish on the other end of their line.

"Looks like we're on our own," Odom said. They pulled back together, reeling slowly to drag their quarry closer.

They fought the fish for what felt like hours. Pirates were scrambling around the ship trying to fix any damage the giant beast was causing with its thrashing. Ashleigh sat in the crow's nest with a spyglass calling out the creature's movements to the crew below

"He's going left! Drop the sails, I'll not have them ripped or toppling my ship!"

"It's not really your ship," muttered Mr. Gibbs, "it's mine."

All the rocking and reeling prompted Brock to venture out from the galley and into a panic. Pirates rushed to and fro securing stray ship pieces and repairing broken things as the boat rolled back and forth with the motions of a sea beast.

"What's going on out here?" he cried.

"Your friends hooked a big one and the line's not breaking."

"They won't give up, no matter what. They're going to tire the beast out."

"If the ship doesn't capsize first, that's what the captain's trying to prevent."

Brock looked up to the crow's nest where Ashleigh was calling down orders then to Kyari and Odom fighting their fish. He made a beeline for them.

"Are you crazy?" he cried. "Let go, you'll destroy the boat."

"I am not letting this fish get away, Brock," Kyari shouted. Her muscles were straining and it felt like one shoulder was going to be ripped from its socket.

"I'm not either," Odom said.

"You're both idiots. I knew you were, Odom, but I thought you'd be better than this, Kyari. These people you associate yourself with bring out the worst in you." Brock grabbed the fishing pole. "But if you want this fish, I'll get you the damned fish." Brock added his strength to their fight, feeling his own muscles start to tire and strain against the sea beast. Sweat poured off of his body, pooling in his boots. It was a gross, slimy sensation he never enjoyed feeling. "I always hated shoes," he muttered angrily.

"By the wings of Avacyn!" Ashleigh exclaimed from her spot in the crow's nest. A giant serpent leapt from the water, its iridescent blue scales glittering in the sun, the spray of sea foam surrounding it in a mist of diamonds. Rows of small, but incredibly sharp teeth lined its mouth. Kyari was instantly aware of how much she'd underestimated the creature they'd been fighting.

"Bring it closer. I need a sample!" Odom cried with glee.

"We already have one, remember?" Kyari said. "The tooth?"

"Oh yeah," Odom said, letting go of the rod. Brock and Kyari were slammed into the railing before releasing the sea serpent from their grasp. "Forgot about that."

"What are you guys doing?" Ashleigh, still in full pirate garb, swung down on a rope and landed in front of them, sword brandished. "Throw another line out, I want one."

Odom started laughing at the look of horror that froze Brock's face. Between the bursts, he managed to get out "Ash, honey, I think it'd be best if we left that big guy alone."

Ashleigh heaved a dramatic sigh. "You never let me have any fun."

"Again, Eldrazi in basement."

"Squidly. Was. Harmless. Besides, you don't actually have a basement."

"The lab and Maelstrom's room are close enough."

Kyari and Brock inched away from the bickering couple.

"What do we do?" Brock whispered.

"From what I've seen? Nothing. They'll make up in a moment or two," Kyari said back just as quietly.

"We're getting off at the next stop," Brock said.

"No, we aren't. You can, but I've still got research to do."

"Research? Sea creatures? Secrets? Samples? Count us in!" Odom smiled and gave Kyari a thumbs up, one arm around Ashleigh.

"Well I'm going home. Pirate ships aren't my kind of place. Where are my clothes?" Brock's eyes roamed the ship, searching for any trace of his robes. He found them neatly folded under some books containing maps that were tossed across the deck from their battle with the sea serpent. He gathered his things and jumped overboard to the sound of Ashleigh leading the crew in a rousing rendition of "A Pirate's Life for Me".


	74. Chapter 74

Planar Chaos

Chapter 29: An Unexpected Gift

The motley crew dismounted the elemental and everyone huddled in their separate groups. Everyone, that is, except for Marthel. He stood by himself at the head of the group eagerly scanning the zone in front of him. The pentagonal podium seemed to have some sort of catch or latching mechanism embedded in it. Carved lines in the floor linked it to the five obelisks surrounding it in a larger pentagon at each of the points. Each obelisk was linked to all of the others with more carved lines. They faintly glowed with a power Marthel simultaneously understood and found mysterious. Each obelisk shimmered a different color in his vision. The sun obelisk shone white, the raindrop obelisk rippled with blue, the skull pulsed with a dark energy, the fireball sparkled red, and the tree obelisk shifted through different shades of green.

"Wow!" Sa'Raah cried. "The sun one is glowing!"

"I don't see anything," Ashleigh responded, squinting at the obelisk. She saw vivid red sparks around one of them, and a faint blue glow around another and a subtle darkness surrounding yet another, but the others were gray and lifeless.

"Yes, it is," Sa'Raah said. "There are sparks around that one and that one keeps changing color." She indicated the fireball and tree obelisks.

"I can see the sparks," Odom said, "and the color shifting, but do any of you see that one?" He indicated the raindrop obelisk.

"I see it," Sverre said. His eyes roamed over the others, lingering on the skull obelisk before being riveted by the liveliness of the one racing through shades of green.

"We all see different colors, I take it?" Lisandra inquired. Her tone of voice made it seem more like a statement. She only saw the blue and the dark energy.

"I can see all of them," Marthel breathed.

"Not surprising from what you've told me about your spark igniting," Kyari said. She felt the pull of the green obelisk, more so than the faintly shimmering white and blue ones. Even though she couldn't see what others were describing, she felt the energy of the obelisks that remained lifeless to her. She chalked it up to her field experience and the many creatures she'd studied on the planes she'd visited.

Rinok stood back with Rhyne and Vilhelm. The brilliance of the white obelisk blinded him, almost drowning out the red sparks, but the dark miasma surrounding the skull obelisk could not be diffused by its light. Vilhelm saw the opposite, a light that could not quite be extinguished by the overpowering darkness along with a faint blue glow in the center.

"Ooh," Rhyne said, "I like that one." He pointed to the skull obelisk clad in its dark miasma. He saw the red sparks and the ever changing greens, but nothing called to him as much as that darkness, for inside it he knew there would be true power.

Where Rinok saw a blinding brilliance and Sa'Raah saw the bright desert sun of Tarkir, Brock was met with a different white light. It was soft and calming, like the moon on Kamigawa. Many a time he would stay up late as a small child to stare up at the orb of light wishing that he'd wake up the following morning with the white skin and lopine ears of his caretakers. He was riveted by that light, almost completely ignoring the equal beauty of the shimmering blue and sparkling red obelisks.

Marthel moved to stand in the middle at the podium. He placed a hand on each side and stared intently at the smooth surface. I need you to guide me, Urza, if any part of you is still alive in here, he thought. It was almost a prayer, something he hadn't done in quite some time. Marthel closed his eyes tightly, wracking his brain for an idea. When he finally opened them again, he saw each of his companions crowded around one of the five obelisks.

Ashleigh stood alone next to the red one, mesmerized by its glittering. In her arms, Abby reached out towards it tentatively before looking to Ashleigh for permission and withdrawing its tentacle when it saw the reverence with which its mother treated this new object. To her right, Sverre and Kyari stood on opposite sides of the shining green obelisk, careful to not get too close to each other. On Ashleigh's other side Vilhelm and Rhyne inspected the skull obelisk and were enveloped in its miasma, the dark energy swirling around them as if they belonged to it. Further left, Lisandra and Odom were eagerly discussing the blue obelisk. All the way around, and almost behind Marthel, stood Brock, Sa'Raah, and Rinok completely enthralled by the white obelisk. Nadia had taken up a position behind Marthel, facing away from him with her sword drawn. It made him smile; she always had his six no matter what.

He felt like something should happen, but there was no change in the podium. Marthel scanned each obelisk again, desperately searching for what he was missing. Everyone else seemed drawn to one of the obelisks in particular whereas he felt the pull of each and every one of them. He scrutinized the groups at each obelisk. Rinok's attraction to the white one legitimately surprised Marthel, given the feelings of peace it gave the dark skinned planeswalker. He toyed with one of his locs absentmindedly while moving to the next group. Odom and Lisandra's fascination with the blue obelisk seemed appropriate and Ashleigh being drawn to the red sparkling one made sense to him. She was the only one who was alone, with even cool-headed Vilhelm and Rhyne, who so often called himself the Wildfire, putting aside their differences as well as Sverre and Kyari coexisting within the same ten foot radius.

It dawned on Marthel what their problem was. "Nothing's happening," he said. "We aren't in balance."

"What do you mean?" Vilhelm asked.

"What he means," Lisandra said, "is that our distribution is unbalanced. We need some of us to step back so there is one at each obelisk."

Odom, Sverre, Sa'Raah, Rinok, and Rhyne all exited the perimeter of the obelisks.

Nothing changed.

"Dammit," Marthel grumbled. He continued louder, "It's still not doing anything."

"I guess we need all of us," Rinok said. "Rhyne, you go stand by Ashleigh this time. I'll take your spot next to Vilhelm."

"Why do I have to give up my spot?" Rhyne groaned.

"Agreed," Vilhelm said. "Couldn't Sa'Raah or Brock just as easily forfeit their spots?"

"It won't work that way," Kyari said. "We're each drawn to the obelisks because of the types of magic we use and what we want. Honestly Rinok should be the one to move next to Ashleigh since he's a war mage. Sa'Raah summons dragons, her magic is more like mine. Brock has learned pyromancy over the years, but his demeanor doesn't seem to fit the kind of magic that fireball obelisk attracts."

Brock's thoughts were once again taken over by his mysterious feeling, almost like premonitions. What Kyari said was true, though. He felt the chaotic, impulsive energy from the red obelisk drawing him to it, but clung to the calming moonlight emanating from the white one. He'd go to the blue obelisk before ever considering the red one as a choice. Studying pyromancy had been his way of trying to control that passionate energy that the Soratami derided as his human nature.

"It's a shame you never got to see the full extent of my power when we met last. Then again, that campaign turned into a colossal failure. If I could bring my own commanders from the planes I've visited and revitalized then things would have gone more smoothly and not been over quite so fast." Rinok swished his sword as he spoke.

"We'll go with Kyari's suggestion," Marthel said. "To your places."

They resumed their positions, with Rinok taking up a spot next to Ashleigh by the sparkling red obelisk. His eyes never left the blindingly white one, though. His expression was almost one of hunger.

"To be honest, Sverre," Kyari said to the king of Helheim, "I'm surprised as a necromancer that this one draws you more than the dark obelisk."

"I tend to view my work less as flouting the laws of nature and more as part of the cycle, especially as I've gotten older and settled down."

"Raising the dead is part of a cycle?" Kyari said, sarcasm and skepticism heavy in her voice.

"Once I am done with my tools I return them to the earth where they belong. Oona is very good at making sure I clean up after myself."

"And that poor wurm you keep enthralled when it should be resting in peace?"

"If you ever come visit Helheim you'd learn nothing rests in peace for more than a few decades there."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Guys," Marthel cried, "something's happening!"

The carved lines had changed from glowing faintly to pulsing with brighter lights. The podium's carvings grew brighter as well. The latching mechanism began to loosen. Marthel held his breath, feeling his heart pounding as the gift his idol had left him revealed itself. The intricacies of the mechanism made little sense to Marthel, but he had a basic idea of how they should be working thanks to his rudimentary knowledge of artifice. His hands gripping the sides of the podium were cold, his body shaking with excitement.

"Marthel," Nadia cautioned, "are you sure you can handle this?"

"I'm fine, Nadia, really," the planeswalker replied, breathless. His heart pounded faster and faster, like he was on the hunt with Surrak and almost to the kill. It felt like the anticipation of offering his prey to his great mother, Atarka, the ferocious dragonlord whose presence awakened something inside of Marthel upon their first meeting.

All eyes were riveted upon the podium. Every breath was held, even Abby's and Maelstrom Wanderer's.

"This is it," Odom whispered to Lisandra.

"What I've been looking for for who knows how long," the vampire breathed.

At last, the center of the podium opened and a metallic orb floated up from inside. It was crisscrossed with hundreds of lines. At the intersections of these lines were circles. The orb could easily fit in the palm of Marthel's hand. He reached out with a trembling hand and tapped it lightly. It bobbed in its gravity field like a cork in water. Moving his hand underneath the orb, Marthel extracted it from the gravity well for closer inspection.

The orb had no text, no instructions, just the carved lines and circles that seemed like they should give way if pressed on.

"What is it?" Lisandra was at Marthel's side the instant his hand touched the orb.

"I'm not sure. It's not something I've ever seen before," Marthel said.

"Don't look at me," Odom said, holding up his hands. "I'm not touching it. I suck at artifice."

"As do I," Kyari said sheepishly.

"So you're telling me we came all this way," Rhyne cried, "and nobody knows what this damn thing is?"

"Vilhelm, you've spent time in Esper, right? Any ideas?" Rinok asked.

The male vampire drew nearer, visually inspecting the artifact but not touching it. After a minute or two he shrugged in defeat. "Never saw anything like this."

"May I examine it?" Brock asked, stepping forward.

"Don't let him," Ashleigh shouted. She still stood by the red obelisk, allowing Abby to finally explore the strange object.

"Excuse me?" Brock turned around to face her.

"You don't want to examine it, you want to throw it away," she said matter-of-factly.

"Brock," Marthel said slowly, drawing out his friend's name. "Is that true?"

"Are you crazy?" Brock laughed, reaching for the orb. Marthel recoiled, pulling the object closer to himself. "Oh," the monk said. "I see how it is. You believe her over me, your friend. The one who aided you when you were an inferno of chaos and couldn't control your magic."

"Brock that has nothing to do with this," Marthel said angrily. "This entire adventure you've done nothing but talk about how whatever is in here is too dangerous for people to have. If you dare chuck this thing into the maze, if you even try, I will not be your friend any longer."

"Marthel," Kyari and Nadia said in unison. The planeswalker continued while the angel kept silent. "That's a little much, don't you think?"

"No, it isn't," Rinok said. "They need the cleansing power of a battle in order to make themselves clear to each other."

"A fight isn't going to solve anything," Kyari cried. "Not right now." She pushed her way between Marthel and Brock. "Look, guys, here's the deal. Until you sort this out, I'll take the orb." She reached her hand towards it but felt a tight grip on her wrist. She looked down and saw Lisandra's pale hand grabbing her arm tight enough to make her fingers curl.

"You're with him," the female vampire said. "As a result, you cannot be trusted either."

"Guys," Odom said, pulling his hair back from his face with both hands, "I can't believe I'm the one saying this, but we need to just calm down and go through this logically."

"Odom is right," Vilhelm said, keeping a restraining arm on Rhyne. "As easy as it would be to just kill each other, I think we need a different course of action. I certainly don't want to get caught in someone's crossfire." But the rest of you can.

"We don't even know what it is," Rinok said. "It's hardly rational to destroy something before we know what it does."

"I will pick someone to hold it for now," Nadia said. She grabbed the orb out of Marthel's hand and locked eyes with each planeswalker around her. Her more angelic senses had been dulled since she left Bant, but it was clear to her that aside from Marthel, the one with the purest intentions for the device was Lisandra, the vampire who had called this maze her home. "Does anyone disagree with me?"

Nobody said a word.

"Alright. It goes to Lisandra." Nadia handed off the orb. "Do with it what you will, vampire."

Lisandra moved away from the rest of the group, holding the orb in one hand and the thesis in the other. The text was open and she looked back and forth between the contents of her hands fervently, attempting to understand. She pressed one of the carved circles out of curiosity. Several feet in front of her, a doorway seven feet high and four feet wide appeared. Dragons with four wings spewing lightning from their mouths swooped through the sky.

"I know that place!" Sa'Raah cried. "Those are the lands of Kolaghan on Tarkir."

Lisandra pressed another circle. The doorway shifted, revealing a dark, tangled wood.

"That's Lorwyn!" Ashleigh stepped back in astonishment.

Oona confirmed the planeswalker's assertion. "It is, but it feels darker. What has Maralen done to my precious home?" The Queen of the Fae buried her face in Sverre's neck, behind his ear, to hide the dark sight from her vision.

"It can't be…" Lisandra breathed, pressing the same circle again and closing the doorway. "Why would Urza leave us this?"

"A planar portal," Marthel said.

"Exactly," Lisandra replied. "I've never seen nor read of one with this sort of construction, though. It almost seems like a map of the multiverse, but it couldn't be completely accurate since Shandalar wanders and planes are born and die every day. These portals were only referenced in the texts describing the Phyrexians and the Caves of Koilos on Dominaria."

"I learned a little of those caves," Sverre said. "They were a spot joining Dominaria and Phyrexia. No doubt the Praetor Elesh Norn would give anything to get this artifact and spread her Machine Gospel from New Phyrexia."

"New Phyrexia?" Kyari asked.

"Formerly the plane of Mirrodin," Odom explained. "Formerly Argentum. There was a planeswalking Golem named Karn who created the plane of Argentum, and a creature named Memnarch created from an object called the Mirari guarded and ruled it. He renamed the plane Mirrodin and sought the ability to planeswalk like his creator could. Somewhere in the middle of all this, the Phyrexian oil was brought to Mirrodin and corrupted it. Now the plane is home of the New Phyrexians, ruled by the Praetors, supreme beings, with Elesh Norn as their leader. I encountered one of them a long time ago, Jin Gitaxis, who wanted to use me and my status as a planeswalker to help Elesh Norn spread her Gospel. It was a desperate ploy by a desperate being to secure his place in the favor of a demagogue. Sverre managed to rescue me. It was how we met."

"What were the creatures there like?" Kyari asked.

"The main species that was different from other planes were the Myr. They resembled robotic chickens, if you looked at them correctly," Sverre said.

"I think I've been there. Once, a long time ago, when I first planeswalked. I was surrounded by dead bodies and the only way I could describe them was as metallic chickens. It was something about the heads." Kyari shuddered.

"Well that's definitely interesting," Rinok said. "New Phyrexia is just like Zendikar. There isn't any glory or renewal there, only a battle long since won. I have to admire the valor of the rebels on both planes, though. They don't know when to quit."

"But why would Urza hide a planar portal here?" Kyari asked.

"So far, as far as we know, Phyrexians don't have sparks," Lisandra said. "At least according to all my books they don't. They've had to rely on portals in the past."

"So only a planeswalker would be able to find it?" Brock asked.

"Only a group of planeswalkers," Marthel said, smiling, "working together. That's the real gift. Don't you see? We can achieve great things if we just worked together."

"It's true," Vilhelm returned Marthel's smile, but it didn't reach the male vampire's eyes. Before Marthel could react, the orb was in Vilhelm's hands. "But I wonder what each of us really wants to do with this prize, hm? Wouldn't this make it infinitely easier to move your armies, Rinok? Or you, Sa'Raah? Could Brock not more effectively police the multiverse? Kyari's studying would certainly benefit from something far less energy-consuming than planeswalking. Even releasing the Phyrexians from their current home seems far easier now that this relic is in our hands. We could be invincible." Vilhelm glanced around, waiting eagerly for the fighting to start.

The first hand to reach for the orb was actually Rhyne's. Yes, this object had infinite uses, but mostly he wanted it for himself. Marthel watched in horror as every hand shot towards the relic they were supposed to share.

Ashleigh made the mistake of being the one to snatch it from Vilhelm's hands. She handed it off to Abby and tossed the abomination into the air, its wings buzzing frantically as it attempted to navigate the sea of angry faces searching for Odom. Moments after Abby was airborne, a fistful of holy fire slammed into Ashleigh's chest, knocking her to the ground.

When Ashleigh went down, Sa'Raah abandoned her designs on the orb to tend to a woman she considered her friend. Everything stopped. Everyone was still. Abby flew up higher and saw the source of the fire that had harmed its mother. Brock stood there with blazing fists and a manic light in his eyes.

"I told you," he cried. "I told you all, but would you listen?"

"Dude," Odom stepped in front of Brock. "We talked about this. Please, try and calm down."

"I'm not having any of your lies, either, Odom. This artifact is good for nobody, and nobody will have it, least of all your band of insane clowns who can't control their impulses."

Sverre interjected, "Pot, meet kettle."

"If anyone deserves to have the artifact it's me," Sa'Raah growled over her shoulder.

"Oh, so you can upset the balance of the multiverse with your asinine ideas about dragons?" Kyari barked.

"Well what would you do with it, Kyari? Anything? Nothing?" Lisandra asked.

"I wouldn't try to destroy the worlds as we know them," Kyari said.

"See, she's on my side," Brock said loudly.

"Nobody's on your side," Rhyne said. "We're all on our own sides."

"I'm on Odom's side," Ashleigh said quietly.

"Shut up," Rinok snarled. "Shut your simpering, sentimental mouth. When I heard the name Voidcaller I thought I'd have some respect for you."

Above the argument, now a full swing cacophony of voices clamoring to be heard over each other, Abby was losing altitude. It scoured the throng for Ashleigh or Odom, but they couldn't be reached. Marthel, however, stood to the side by himself. His shoulders shook with every breath, but he was a safe person and Abby could at least take this new object to him.

Abby descended, landing in a tentacly squoosh on Marthel's head. The dark skinned planeswalker picked up the abomination and cradled it much like Ashleigh would. "Well, little one, it looks like I was wrong. We both were."

Abby opened its tentacles, revealing the orb. Marthel gingerly removed it from the twitching mass shortly before being struck in the back and falling forward, Abby and the planar portal tumbling out of his arms. The portal sphere began rolling away with Abby scrambling after it. Marthel turned to see a brawl had begun. Even Nadia had been drawn into the fray. Her sword clanged against Rinok's, sweat pouring down the planeswalker's face as he tested himself against her angelic strength. Sverre was holding Brock at bay while Kyari and Sa'Raah fought against Rhyne. Vilhelm had delivered a few blows to both Lisandra and Odom while Ashleigh had snuck up behind him.

Abby had reached the orb, wrapping it inside its tentacles once more. This proved to be problematic, however, as Abby could no longer generate the thrust needed to take off from the ground with its single unused tentacle. It glanced back and cried out for its mother. Instead of catching Ashleigh's attention, the first being Abby saw was Brock.

"No you don't!" He screamed, hurling an in all likelihood disproportionate amount of fire at the abomination.

An ear shattering screech filled the chamber along with the smell of burning flesh. Abby writhed on the ground, its delicate translucent stomach burned away exposing its organs to the outside world. Odom immediately disengaged Vilhelm, rushing to his creation's side.

"All I wanted," Marthel said darkly, "was for all of us to have an adventure together. I wanted something nice." He looked up at everyone standing around staring at Abby's writhing form with a black fire leaking from the corners of his eyes. His voice had dropped several octaves. Nadia stood completely still with a look of horror on her face.

"Marthel," she stepped forward, "Marthel you need to calm down."

"Don't tell me what to do, Nadia!" Marthel shouted, slinging the dark fire towards his companion. She easily dissipated it with a swing of her sword. "They couldn't do this one thing for me. They couldn't let me live in a world where we can all coexist peacefully"

"You should know better than most that you cannot force a peace that is not ready to exist," Nadia said coolly.

Ashleigh ducked around the edge of their fight to kneel by Odom and Abby.

"Can you fix it," she asked, tears in her eyes.

"I'm trying," Odom said. Abby's midsection had been slathered with goo, as had the worst of its burns. "The ooze isn't taking, odd considering I used bits of myself to make it."

"Abby, sweetie," Ashleigh reached out and Abby wrapped a tentacle around her finger. "Mommy's here. It's okay."

Marthel was continuing his tirade, fire spewing from his mouth as he spoke, springing from his feet as he stomped about, and flying from his fingertips as he gesticulated wildly. "It's bad enough that you couldn't hold your holier-than-thou attitude for even a little while, Brock, but you, Kyari, I never thought I'd hear you behave this way. And Sa'Raah, I invited you into this group out of the goodness of my heart, my dear cousin whose mother has been so kind to me. Your designs are something I could never allow to happen, I hope you know that. Rinok, Rhyne, I gave you chances, each of you. I didn't want to bring you into this at all, honestly. I thought you might just wreck everything with your constant warmongering and your thrill kills. Honestly, I'm pretty fucking pissed at all of you right now except for Lisandra. She's the only one who's been invested in this venture for the same reasons I was."

The tirade would have continued, but Ashleigh interrupted him. "Marthel," she screamed.

"What!?" He turned around, eyes and hands blazing. When he saw the tears streaming down her face and the trembling creature in her arms, he calmed down a little.

"You have to fix it. Odom and I, we can't do anything. It isn't responding to either of our magic. Please. Nobody knows as many different kinds of magic as you do. Nobody has that ability to learn them. You've got to save Abby."

The fires extinguished as Marthel knelt by Ashleigh and Odom.

"Hand it here," he held out his hands. Ashleigh delicately transferred Abby, who had by this point gone very still with only the occasional squeak of pain alerting them that the abomination was alive and still suffering.

"Are you happy?" Ashleigh stood up and attempted to cross the distance between her and Brock. Nadia blocked her path with a sword.

"You don't want to do this," the angel urged.

"I don't want to fight you, Brock," Ashleigh said. "I just want to know why you felt the need to target me and my family. Can't people change?"

"Beings such as yourself can never change, Voidcaller. You haven't the restraint necessary to master your magic, haven't the discipline necessary to travel the planes, nor the presence of mind to be allowed to live."

"Then just leave. Leave before I kill you," Ashleigh snarled.

"Gladly." Brock reached out into the blind eternities and felt them open up to him. Without much effort at all he planeswalked.

"Brock, wait," Kyari followed after him.

"I know what you're feeling," Rinok said.

"How could you possibly?" Ashleigh said.

"You're in pain, betrayed, you want revenge?"

"He's going to pay for what he did to Abby. I'll see to it with my own two hands."

"Maybe you'd like a few extra pairs?" Rinok said smoothly.

Ashleigh looked around. Sa'Raah had planeswalked away as had Sverre and Lisandra. Nadia had removed her sword and gone to stand behind Marthel as he frantically worked to save Abby.

"You care for this creature?" Nadia asked him.

"My friend cares for it, so too shall I."

"Anything I can do to help?" Odom asked.

"I don't think so. I can't heal Abby, but I can bind it here and let the plane heal it. We have to go back to the room with the crystal sun."

"Extra pairs would be nice," Ashleigh said to Rinok quietly. "His home world is Kamigawa. I need to hit him where it'll hurt."

"Your information will not go unrewarded," Vilhelm purred. "Rinok, I believe our first stop with your forces from Valla will be Kamigawa." He rolled the planar portal in his palms.

"Where did you find that?" Ashleigh asked, shocked."

"It rolled this way when your little creature went down," Vilhelm explained. "I simply grabbed it up when nobody was looking." Vilhelm, Rinok, and Rhyne planeswalked away.

"Ash, come on," Odom called from atop Maelstrom Wanderer. "We've got to go back and try to save Abby."

She clambered up on top of the elemental and the three planeswalkers set out for the crystal sun.

"What if the wurms come back?" Ashleigh asked, cradling Abby to her chest.

"We can only hope they won't." Odom put his arm around her shoulders.

"So far, so good," Marthel said. The crystal sun once again glittered overhead. "Slide down, guys."

Everyone dismounted the elemental and walked towards the crystal sun. The wurm holes remained dormant.

"Why aren't they attacking?" Ashleigh asked.

"They probably know we're not a threat this time." Marthel took Abby out of Ashleigh's arms and laid it down directly under the crystal sun. He looked up into its brilliant, iridescent light and reached for it with his power. He wove the mana around and through Abby, tying the artificial life form to this artificial plane.

"Is it going to be okay?" Ashleigh asked. Both Marthel and Odom gave her sheepish grins and refused to meet her eyes.

"Well?"

"Well what, Ash?" Odom asked. "There's not much we can do. We couldn't get Abby to respond to our healing magic. While you were talking with Rinok we decided the only thing that could be done was to bind Abby to Xerex and let the plane's magic heal it."

"So Abby has to stay here?" Ashleigh asked, shock apparent on her face.

"Just for now. We'll find a way to get it back, I promise," Odom said.

"Promise!?" Ashleigh shrieked. "You don't even care, do you? You can just make another one, a different one, a better one. You've been planning that all along. Was our baby not perfect enough for you?"

"No, that's not it at all. Ash, you know that I love Abby just as much as you do. Marthel, come on man, back me up," Odom begged, looking over his shoulder at Marthel.

"I don't get involved in domestic disputes," Marthel replied. "Besides, Abby doesn't need to see its parents fighting like this. Come over here and see it, it's starting to do better."

Ashleigh pushed past Odom and fell to her knees. The worst of Abby's burns were beginning to heal. Its stomach had sealed back up. Ashleigh meticulously traced the pathways of the organs, making sure nothing was out of place.

"Oh my sweet little abomination," Ashleigh sobbed. "You have to stay here for a while but I promise I'll be back for you soon. Be patient, okay?"

Odom supposed it was a good thing the abomination hadn't advanced cognitively enough to have a conception of the word "soon."


	75. Chapter 75

Planar Chaos

Chapter 30: The Loosest of Ends

A tearful Ashleigh finally tore herself away from Abby once the infant abomination was sound asleep, comfortably wrapped in the soft yet tattered remains of her red cultist cloak that she produced from somewhere on her person.

"I don't know how long she's been carrying that thing around," Odom muttered to Marthel.

Marthel shrugged by way of a reply.

They slowly made their way back towards the room with the obelisks, Ashleigh leaning heavily on her friends. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced and Odom noticed her eyes had lost their sparkle.

"Ash," he asked, pulling the trio to a stop, "are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine," she said. "I promise."

"I know you're lying and so does Marthel," Odom said.

Marthel nodded sagely. He figured it was best to keep out of his friends' domestic disputes, and thus kept his talking to a minimum. "Anyone can see you're not okay."

Ashleigh looked back over her shoulder. Maelstrom Wanderer obstructed her view of the path behind her. She wouldn't be able to see her precious sleeping Abby anyway, it was too far back now.

It was at that moment Nadia came careening down the pathway towards them, wings flapping frantically.

"Marthel! Marthel I can't find it!"

"Can't find what, Nadia?" Marthel asked, confused.

"The relic? The orb? The portal sphere?" Nadia said rapidly, almost too quickly for any of the planeswalkers to understand. "Someone stole it."

Marthel's eyes grew wide. "Shit. Oh shit. Fuck. This is so bad. I was so distracted with Abby that I didn't even think about the portal. Did any of you see anything?"

"No, I didn't," Odom said. "Ash certainly didn't, not after Abby went down."

Ashleigh just looked down at the ground and shrank into herself.

"I know I didn't see anything," Nadia said. She swung her sword around her as she paced back and forth. "Everyone had motive for that ball except for Lisandra, and even though I find vampires to be one of the most detestable things I've encountered since I joined Marthel as his disciple and protector, she had the purest intentions for the object."

"So we just wait and see what happens to figure out who found it?" Odom asked. "That seems like the worst idea."

"What other ideas do we have?" Marthel asked. "None of us saw who took the portal."

"Maybe it rolled off the edge?" Ashleigh suggested. The others looked around. The suggestion was not without merit, the "room" was more of a platform like Lisandra's library.

"I feel like we would have noticed that, or someone would have gone after it if they saw it rolling away. Sadly, Ash, not everybody cares about Abby as much as we do." Odom looked down at Ashleigh, who had begun to lean against him again with her head on his shoulder.

"You don't know that. Sa'Raah cares about Abby, and so does Kyari, to an extent."

"Ashleigh," Marthel said, "he has a point. Everyone had an idea of what they were going to do with that sphere. It turned out to be something even more dangerous than any of us ever imagined. If Rinok got his hands on it, then there'd be no stopping his armies. So far he's been unable to move his main forces from Valla. Building and maintaining a new army on each plane is what's slowed him down so far, it was even his downfall on Kamigawa. That portal could make it impossible to stop him."

By this point Ashleigh was in tears. "That's not what I wanted. That's not what I wanted at all!" She bolted, planeswalking as she ran headlong towards the red obelisk.

"Are you going to go after her?" Marthel asked.

"Nope."

"Why not?" Nadia asked. "Aren't you two _together_?" The way she said the word made Marthel chuckle.

"We are," Odom explained, "but sometimes Ash needs time by herself to go blow off steam. I don't get involved in things she wants me to stay out of. She basically comes and goes as she pleases, and I don't go seek her out. When she's ready she'll come back."

"That's…" Nadia began, confused.

Marthel finished for her, "A remarkably secure and stable relationship. I'm impressed."

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Sa'Raah landed on Tarkir just outside the cave where she and Sarkhan had hidden from Rinok. She didn't know what she expected to find there, but was disappointed that the pile of furs was cold and empty. She took a deep breath to steady herself after planeswalking and decided there was nothing wrong with taking a nap. After all, she was always welcome in Sarkhan's many homes dotted across the plane. Sa'Raah removed her armor, wrapping herself up in the bear and knuckleblade hides. It wasn't unlike the nests made by dragons who reproduced with eggs rather than through the tempests.

When Sa'Raah opened her eyes, moonlight poured in the mouth of the cave. A familiar red dragon curled up around her, its yellow eyes glowing with an intelligent light.

"Hello, Sarkhan," Sa'Raah said, smiling as she reached up to stroke the dragon's face. "Did you miss me?"

"Indeed I did," he responded in the dragons' language. "Did you find what you sought?"

"Yes and no," Sa'Raah said. "Everyone wound up fighting over this device that makes a portal between planes. It would be a lie to say I didn't want it, then Mother could come with me every time I leave to rally more dragons to the cause."

"But if Dromoka left Tarkir, then her tempest would stop," Sarkhan said. "That would disrupt the balance of the plane and peace between the dragonlords. You know both Kolaghan and Silumgar would strike the second one of their siblings became weak."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Sa'Raah said. "So how long have you been there anyway?"

"A little while, maybe a few hours. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Maybe I wanted to be disturbed," she replied.

"So that's why you took off your armor and put it somewhere you knew I'd see it." Sarkhan chuckled, changing back into his human form. "Why didn't you say so?"

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Kyari landed on Brock's meditation plane to find it utterly neglected. It was evident from the sluggish way the fish swam in their sphere of water that Brock hadn't been there in quite some time. The flow of mana was all wrong, it had wandered out of alignment and stagnated. The poor creatures looked so pitiful in their brackish water that Kyari had to do something. She sat down on the flat stone and began to tug at the flow and balance of the plane's mana, using that flow to perk the fish back up and freshen their water. It was this kind of magic that she'd taught Marthel, especially the part about mimicking a plane's natural flow of mana in a smaller area to calm a rabid creature. These fish weren't rabid by any means, but the principle was the same. Once they were in their accustomed environment again, they would be right as rain.

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"Ravnica, it's been a while," Lisandra said, walking the streets of her home. The familiar paths of Duskmantle's winding streets led her to many of her old haunts, but finally she found herself in front of one of the secret entrances to House Dimir.

"Password?" a guard asked. She quickly searched his mind for the appropriate response, gave it quickly, and was allowed back inside the warm fold of her guild.

"Ah, Lissy, dear," Mirko purred. "You've been missing in action for a while."

"Mirko," Lisandra said cordially. "I never expected to see you here."

"This is my guild, after all."

"I thought that since Szadek became ethereal Lazav was in charge?"

"Merely a technicality," Mirko scowled. "I am Szadek's heir, not Lazav."

Lisandra smirked. It could be said that she was Szadek's heir as well. She'd inherited the psychic vampire's abilities in spades, abilities that were only amplified by her status as a planeswalker. If she wanted, despite her absences, Lisandra thought she might be able to take over the entirety of House Dimir. It wasn't a bad idea, either. She was certainly more likeable and more respected than Mirko. But the damned Selesnya probably would never give up their search for their little lost lamb. Now that Emmara had attained such high status in the guild, it would be virtually impossible for Lisandra to move up in her own guild's ranks. She cursed her sister and their parents and Mat'Selesnya and Trostani and everyone else standing in the way of her ambitions.

0000000

"Oona, my love," Sverre called. His wife exited their bedroom still clad in her nightdress, one strap falling off of her shoulder. Sverre took a moment to look at her from his position in his favorite armchair, his eyes roaming hungrily over her smooth bluish skin, soft white hair, and delicately folded wings. "I think we ought to have a celebration to commemorate a successful end to the expedition."

"My darling, I would hardly call it successful when we left without the relic or even saying goodbye," she replied.

"The relic is of no consequence to me. I can't use it to achieve my dream of restoring planeswalkers' true abilities so I can spend the rest of eternity with my greatest treasure."

"That's wonderful and all, but is right now the right time for a party? Two of your best friends are mourning the loss of a creature that is basically their child."

Sverre thought for a moment. "I really think a celebration of Odom and Ashleigh's accomplishment might be more appropriate. After all, I didn't get to properly congratulate them on the birth of their child."

"I am proud of her for finally finding a place she feels like she can belong. Even when she lived with the fairies in Glen Elendra she always felt a little out of place." Oona stared into the distance, reminiscing.

"From what Odom tells me she doesn't always feel that at home. She disappeared once for over a year. It seems to be a habit of hers now."

Oona sighed. "So you think a party would bring her back?"

"I think that, regardless of what Odom lets on, he misses her when she's away. I want all my friends to be as happy as we are." Sverre leaned back and beckoned Oona towards him with a curl of his fingers. She cheerfully obliged.

000000

"So, what do we do now?" Rhyne asked. He, Vilhelm, and Rinok sat around a campfire in the middle of the camp housing Rinok's main forces on Valla. The army was several thousand strong, by far the largest he'd ever amassed. His generals were loyal, maintaining the order and discipline needed for their various campaigns while Rinok was away.

"Simple enough," Rinok said. "We build our numbers here and then when the time is right we open the portal and attack Kamigawa, instigating a second Kami War that will continue for generations and into eternity."

"You really think a force from the outside, an army from Valla, can spur the people of Kamigawa to go to war against their gods a second time?" Vilhelm asked.

"I don't think it will work," Rinok said, "I know it will."


	76. Chapter 83

Planar Chaos

One Shots: The Holiday Special

Sverre busied himself about his palace, fussing over decorations. No matter what he did, how many fires were lit, how much holly and various other greeneries were brought into his subterranean domain, it remained dim, just like the rest of this lowest layer of Helheim.

He tsk'd to himself. The mortals, the ones living above, referred to their home as Medheim, and he supposed it made sense that they would refer to their own level of the plane as the whole thing. Azheim and Helheim were as distant to the mortals of Medheim as Nyx to the people of Theros.

""Darling," Oona called, "our guests will be arriving soon."

"Sverre sighed. His abode was as cheerful as a palace of the dead could ever be, not that his guests would mind too terribly much.

"Oona, my dearest, you look ill!" Sverre cried upon seeing his faerie wife. Her wings were drooping, her soft blue skin coated in a dewy sheen of sweat.

"I must greet our guests with you, my love," Oona said.

"You must get your rest. I can't stand to see my most precious treasure in this state. I'll host the gathering myself."

"If you insist," Oona said breathily. She retired to her bedroom unaware of who she would be missing.

0000000

"Ash, it's almost time to leave."

"Okay, how does this look?" Ashleigh stepped out of the closet in Odom's Ravnica apartment. This was the third outfit she'd tried. It wasn't her fault though. Innistrad didn't have midwinter celebrations. Hunter's Moon was always a time for fear and locking away. The closest they had was Goldnight, a period of time in the middle of the plane's summer where the sun didn't set for two days.

Ashleigh sighed. How long had it been since she'd celebrated a Goldnight? She shook her head and concentrated on the task at hand. She ran her fingers over the red velvet of her dress, picking at the white fur trim on the collar and sleeves.

"I told you," Odom said, "you look fine."

"Well that's easy for you to say. I've never been invited to a Solstice Party before. I don't know the proper dress or etiquette, or anything!" She huffed and crossed her arms, upset that she'd had to leave Gnarls at home. He'd be more of a help than Odom.

The guild hopping planeswalker in question hadn't changed out of the hodgepodge robes he'd worn to work that same day. The only addition was a small holly pin on his breast.

He simply shrugged in response. "It'll be just like any of Sverre's parties, only there'll be presents."

"Presents? Ashleigh hadn't even thought of what to bring for Sverre or his mysterious lady of the house that he talked so much about.

Odom laughed at her expression. "I've got the gifts, dear, don't worry."

"And they know I'm coming?"

"Of course. The invitation said 'plus one', and I can't think of a better plus one than you. You're always the life of the party."

Ashleigh squirmed at his statement. The last party they'd attended ended with her "borrowing" a lightning spell and breaking several expensive stained glass windows, for which the Azorius imposed a hefty fine. Niv Mizzet had gladly taken on the bill, of course, since it was in fact a party in honor of the great dragon himself and for whatever reason he'd taken a liking to Odom and Ashleigh. But maybe Sverre's party would be different.

They planeswalked to the halls of Sverre's Palace of the Dead. Candles and torches cast warm light on the dark stones. Evergreens wreathed doors and hung from every mantle. A strange plant with white berries hovered over them, spinning slowly in the air.

"Sverre, what exactly is all this?" Ashleigh asked.

"You've never seen mistletoe before, Ashleigh? I thought they would have it on Innistrad." The older planeswalker strode out from the shadows, his traditional black cloak traded for a vibrant emerald one lined in white fur. "It's an adorable little custom. Whoever stands under the mistletoe has to kiss."

Odom merely waggled his mismatched eyebrows at Ashleigh.

She initiated a quick but passionate kiss.

"Awwww. You guys are just too cute!" Sverre squealed, cupping his face.

"Dude," Odom said. "Seriously?"

"Can't a man envy true love?"

"Now you're just being ridiculous," Ashleigh said.

"Speaking of love," Odom said, "where is your lady of the house?"

"Unfortunately my treasure has taken a sudden fever, so I shall be entertaining the guests tonight."

"Where are the others?" Ashleigh asked.

"Oh, it's just us. You're the only ones who bothered to RSVP." Sverre turned and led the way into the great hall. A long table was set up with three places and mountains of food. "It's a shame, really, we spent so much time cooking. My dear spent forever on that ice sculpture as well." He gestured to a pair of swans in the corner.

hey took their seats at the table and began the feast.

"Sverre, I must say this is delicious. You two do all your own cooking?" Odom asked.

"With herbs from all over the Multiverse." Sverre responded proudly.

"It's fantastic," Ashleigh said. "I haven't had a meal this good in ages."

"Only the best for this most glorious of holidays spent with the best of friends," Sverre shouted gaily, raising his goblet into the air.

000000

"And then we light the fire and let it burn all night," Kyari said, striking her flint and coaxing the fire into being around the largest log she'd been able to find. Brock sat awkwardly on a fallen tree while Kyari's hydra licked the side of his face like a puppy.

"Awww, he likes you," Kyari exclaimed, taking a seat next to Brock. "But the larger gatherings for this night use much bigger fires. There's also drinking and dancing, but since you're a monk I figured that might make you uncomfortable."

Brock didn't want to admit that Kyari was right. Among the Ojutai, the consumption of alcohol was not only frowned upon, but outlawed. They viewed it as a barbaric custom to release a barbaric nature, something the elegant feathered dragons and their sire tried to suppress.

She had scooted closer to him because of the cold. Brock let out the breath he'd been holding, releasing the heat inside of him. It was something he'd learned to do on his own, but suspected that each monk of the Ojutai went through a similar process just to survive around the ice breathing dragons.

The earthy smells of the forest mingled with the crispness of frost on the ground. Apparently frost was a rare phenomenon in this part of Shandalar, but in an unfamiliar world it was a nice point of familiarity. Frost seemed to cover almost everything Ojutai's brood touched.

"Honestly, this is kind of nice. Quiet holidays are hard to come by around here." Her head rested on his shoulder now and the heat pouring off of his body had nothing to do with the collective monks' secret technique to stay warm. There weren't elves on Kamigawa or Tarkir, and his first real interactions with them as a race had been with Kyari. Despite all the others he'd come across, she was still by far the prettiest.

The hydra playfully tugged on Kyari's braid.

"Stop it, you," she gently shoved it back, pulling her long, dark hair out of its mouth. "How long is it going to be until it sinks in? Don't eat my hair!"

Brock sat perfectly still through the whole interaction. What was he even supposed to do? Laugh? Was that part of this holiday? It might have been different if the last ten years of his life had involved holidays. Meditation took up most of the day, with training and eating occupying smaller portions of the day. There were festivals back on Kamigawa. The streets of Ottawara would be lit with lanterns, the Oboro Palace strung with hundreds of lights.

Ice filled his stomach as he repressed the memories. The present was what mattered and in the present he was alone in the woods in front of a wonderfully warm fire with a pretty elf.

0000000

"Ah, I just love winter on Fiora!" Marthel sighed. A thin layer of snow blanketed the lower city of Paliano, covering tile and thatch roofs. They almost looked like the gingerbread houses children on this plane made around the winter holiday. He inhaled deeply through his nose. Cinnamon, clove, ginger, and roasting nuts filled his nostrils. Children built snowmen in the side streets, using whatever sticks and refuse they could find to make rudimentary crowns and faces. They would dance around their snow kings, pretending to be the guards that patrolled the high city.

An oddly shaped snow drift next to a house moved, causing Marthel to be on his guard. One foot slid back and his hand went to his knife as a disheveled looking man with a scruffy beard and a light complexion shook snow off of himself. The man appeared to need some serious personal grooming; then again Marthel supposed people thought he needed personal grooming, never mind that his locs were well taken care of thank you very much

Marthel took a more relaxed stance. He held out his hand to help the man to his feet. "Look sharp, friend. Big snow came in last night on top of you, it seems."

The man looked at Marthel's hand, then at Marthel, and stood on his own. "I require no aid."

"Just trying to be friendly, it is the holiday season, after all."

"The man sniffed at the air like an animal. "My mother used to bake this excellent pie." He immediately shut his mouth. Almost like the sentence had slipped out unbidden.

"My mother used to bake too," Marthel said, smiling. "But that was a long time ago in a place far away. I doubt she'd recognize me now."

"You're far too open with people," the man said. "It's going to get you killed someday."

"My name's Marthel, and you are?"

"I go by Rhyne, but don't bother saying that name here. They don't take too kindly to it."

"Criminal? I've done time myself."

"The son suffers for the sins of his father, especially if that suffering leads to a fiery revenge." Rhyne stalked off, leaving Marthel standing in the street.

00000

For any sort of winter holidays on Tarkir, Sa'Raah had to venture to the far north, deep inside the territory of her Aunt Atarka. On the longest night of the year, her clan gathered for a feast of such large proportions that the dragonlord herself would be in a food induced sleep for up to a week afterward. Sa'Raah enjoyed partaking in the hunts that preceded this ritual, using the draconic aspects bestowed upon her by her own mother to best her peers and capture her prey. Competition was something the Dromoka lacked, but at which the Atarka excelled. Sa'Raah crouched down on all fours, a rudimentary spear gripped tightly in her hand. She breathed through her nose, but kept her mouth open to taste the air. They were hunting a buck, the largest in their territory by far. It's antlers were twisted and warped with years of growth, resembling a bramble bush more than a tree limb.

It was here and now she could let the instincts she'd repressed, the instincts she'd honed on Jund as the Broodculler, out for a little practice. Ferocity wasn't something to be avoided, according to her mother, but controlled into a productive force. Sa'Raah held a different philosophy. The animal needed to be exercised every now and again or that force would lose its edge.

A twig snapped in the distance. Sa'Raah's head shot up and she was off like a bolt of sunlight from her mother's maw.

00000

Lisandra sat at her makeshift desk in the maze reading tome upon tome about wintertime rituals across planes and across history. The maze of Xerex proved to be a virtual dumping ground for knowledge planeswalkers either wanted preserved or hidden. She turned a page and continued absorbing the contents of the pages. They were filled with fond memories that tasted like sugarplums and pumpkin.  
AN: Sorry for the lateness and laziness. Between traveling for the holidays and getting ready for school and personal tragedies, I haven't had time to sit down and write a real chapter. I hope this holds you all over for now. Also I wrote this on an IPad, so I'm sorry about formatting errors.


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